BSSi 


ESSAYS 


HILOLOGICAL  AND  CRITICAL 


SELECTED   FROM   THE  PAPERS 


OF 


JAMES    HADLEY,    LL.D. 

Professor  of  Greek  in  Yale  College ;  President  of  tJie  American 
Oriental  Society  ;    Vice-President  of  the  American  Phi 
lological  Association  ;  Member  of  the  National 
Academy  of  Sciences,  etc.,  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

HOLT    &   WILLIAMS 
1873 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 

ANNE  T.  HADLEY, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


POOLE  &  MACLATJCHLAN, 

PRINTERS  AND  BOOKBINDERS, 

205-213  East  Twelfth  St., 

NEW  YORK. 


PREFACE. 


THE  articles  contained  in  this  volume  have  been  selected 
rom  among  the  papers,  published  and  unpublished,  left  by 
3rofessor  Hadley,  and  are  put  forth  by  his  family  and  friends, 
rle  died  on  the  I4th  of  November,  1872,  in  the  fifty-second 
/ear  of  his  age.  He  had  been  for  twenty-seven  years  an  in- 
>tructor  in  Yale  College,  entering  its  service  as  tutor  in  1845, 
Deing  appointed  assistant  professor  of  Greek  in  1848,  and 
succeeding  President  Woolsey  in  the  principal  charge  of  that 
department  in  1851.  A  sketch  of  his  life,  with  an  estimate  of 
lis  character  as  a  man  and  as  a  scholar,  is  given  by  President 
Dorter  in  the  New  Englander  for  January,  18/3,  and  has  also 
Deen  issued  as  a  pamphlet,  accompanied  by  an  account  of  his 
sarly  studies,  drawn  up  by  himself  many  years  ago,  and  by  a 
nearly  complete  list  of  his  literary  productions,  with  the  times 
ind  places  of  their  composition  and  publication. 

Of  the  papers  here  given,  the  following  have  already  ap- 
)eared  :  Art.  I.,  on  the  Ionian  Migration  (first  part),  in  the 
ournal  of  the  American  Oriental  Society,  vol.  v.,  1856; 
Art.  IV.,  on  Bekker's  Digammated  Homer,  in  the  Transac- 
ions  of  the  Connecticut  Academy,  vol.  i.,  1866;  Arts.  VI. 
and  VII.,  on  Greek  Accent  and  Greek  Pronunciation  in  the 
.enth  century,  and  Art.  XV.,  on  English  Vowel  Quantity,  in 
.he  Transactions  of  the  American  Philological  Association, 

59-72  ;  Art.  XIV.,  on  Ellis's  Early  English  Pronunciation, 
n  the  North  American  Review,  vol.  ex.,  1870;  Arts.  XVI. 
and  XVII. ,  on  Tennyson's  Princess  and  the  Number  Seven, 
n  the  New  Englander,  vols.  vii.,  1849,  and  xvi.,  1858;  and 
Art.  XX.,  on  the  Language  of  Palestine  at  the  Time  of 
!hrist,  in  Messrs.  Hackett  and  Abbot's  edition  of  Smith's 
Bible  Dictionary,  vol.  ii.,  1868.  Thanks  are  due,  and  arc  here 


iv  PREFACE. 

publicly  given,  to  the  proprietors  of  the  several  works  named, 
for  kindly  permitting  the  republications  made  in  this  volume. 
Art.  VI.,  it  may  be  added,  has  been  reproduced,  in  German 
translation,  in  Professor  G.  Curtius's  Studien  Z2ir  Griecliischen 
und  Lateinischen  Graunnatik,  vol.  v.,  1872.  To  Art.  XV., 
on  English  Vowel  Quantity,  there  is  added  in  the  original  a 
"  list  of  all  the  words,  not  already  noticed,  which  appear  in 
the  Ormulum  with  the  same  vowel  quantity  which  they  have 
in  modern  English,"  occupying  twelve  pages;  this  list  it  wras 
thought  better  to  omit  here. 

Of  the  remaining  essays,  the  larger  number  (together  with 
some  of  the  preceding)  were  prepared  for  the  American  Ori 
ental  Society,  and  read  at  its  meetings  ;  such  are  Arts.  I. 
(second  part),  II.,  III.,  VIII.,  IX.,  X.,  XIII.,  and  XIX.; 
others — namely,  Arts.  V.  and  XII. — were  presented  to  the 
Classical  and  Philological  Society  of  Yale  College  ;  and  one, 
Art.  XL,  was  brought  before  the  Connecticut  Academy, 
but  at  a  meeting  of  which  the  record  is  lost ;  its  precise  date 
is  therefore  uncertain.  The  XVIIIth  article,  the  Class  De 
cisions,  calls  for  a  word  of  explanation.  As  one  of  the  Col 
lege  instructors  and  officers,  Professor  Hndley  was  accustomed 
to  preside  at  weekly  "disputes"  in  the  Junior  class — the 
reading  of  essays  upon  selected  questions — and  to  review  and 
sum  up  the  arguments  brought  forward,  giving  his  own 
opinions  on  the  subject  discussed.  In  preparation  for  this 
exercise,  it  was  his  habit  often  to  write  out  beforehand  his 
views,  not  for  reading  to  the  class,  but  as  part  of  the  ground 
work  of  his  "  decision  ;  "  and  of  such  written  arguments  he 
has  left  a  considerable  mass  (about  a  hundred  and  fifty  in 
number).  These  exercises  were  always  greatly  enjoyed  by 
the  class  ;  and  it  is  partly  in  response  to  wishes  warmly  ex 
pressed  from  various  quarters  that  a  selection  from  the  de 
cisions  is  here  included.  They  must  be  taken  for  what  they 
are — thoroughly  off-hand  productions,  written  ciirrcntc  calaino 
and  without  special  preparation,  and  in  no  case  revised  or 
corrected.  Their  author,  doubtless,  would  never  have  thought 
of  such  a  thing  as  making  any  of  them  public  ;  but  it  seemed 
highly  proper  that,  in  a  volume  intended  as  a  memorial  and 
illustration  of  his  scholarly  life,  they  should  not  be  passed 


PREFACE.  v 

over.  They  will  show,  on  the  one  hand,  the  zeal  and  devo 
tion  with  which  he  performed  his  College  duties,  and,  on  the 
other,  the  rapidity  and  precision  with  which  he  thought  and 
wrote  ;  they  will  be  valued  especially  by  his  numerous  pupils, 
and  by  all  the  graduates  and  friends  of  Yale  College. 

There  are  perhaps  other  essays  in  the  volume  which  their 
author  might  not  himself  have  chosen  to  publish.  There  are 
certainly  some  which  he  would  not  have  let  pass  from  his 
hands  without  a  thorough  revision.  This  is  especially  true  of 
the  essays  in  comparative  philology  (Arts.  II.  and  IX. -XI.) ; 
the  progress  of  investigation  and  deduction  in  this  department 
is  so  rapid  that  no  one's  views  can  remain  long  absolutely 
unmodified.  But  although  these  essays  need  not  be  taken  as 
representing  in  every  item  Professor  Hadley's  final  opinions, 
it  has  not  been  thought  worth  while  to  alter  or  annotate  them  ; 
as  popular  summaries  they  are  authoritative,  and  by  the 
special  student  who  shall  criticise  them  in  detail  they  need 
only  to  have  their  date  duly  considered. 

The  plan  of  arrangement  of  the  volume  has  been  to  put 
first  the  Greek  articles,  next  those  in  general  philology,  then 
those  upon  English,  and  last  the  more  miscellaneous  and 
lighter  papers  ;  each  division  being  arranged  nearly  chrono 
logically.  Taken  together,  they  will  measurably  illustrate  the 
wide  range  and  varied  direction  of  their  author's  studies — but 
with  the  exception,  especially,  of  three  departments  :  mathe 
matics,  where  he  early  displayed  an  ability  that  bade  fair,  if 
he  had  continued  his  devotion  to  it,  to  place  him  among  the 
foremost  men  of  the  day  in  that  branch  of  science  ;  Celtic 
philology,  in  which  he  was  a  proficient ;  and  the  Roman  Law, 
his  academical  lectures  on  which  are  published  in  a  separate 
volume,  simultaneously  \vith  this. 

And  yet  it  may  also  be -said  with  truth  that  the  specimens 
of  his  work  here  presented  are  far  from  fully  exhibiting  his 
powers  and  acquirements.  He  was  a  man  who  put  a  larger 
share  of  himself  into  his  personal  teachings,  and  a  smaller  into 
what  he  gave  to  the  world  at  large,  than  most  others.  He 
was  absolutely  without  the  desire  to  shine,  and  he  needed  the 
impulse  of  a  more  imperative  call  than  he  ever  received  to 
draw  him  fully  out  of  his  modest  retirement.  It  is  no  proper 


vi  PREFACE. 

place  here  to  extol  his  abilities  before  the  wider  public  which 
will,  as  it  has  the  right  to  do,  judge  them  by  his  recorded 
work,  and  which  will  do  them  justice  ;  and  yet  I  cannot  close 
this  preface  without  a  word  of  recognition  of  them,  of  appre 
ciation  of  his  worth  and  sorrow  at  his  loss.  In  extent  and 
accuracy  of  knowledge,  in  retentiveness  and  readiness  of 
memory,  in  penetration  and  justness  of  judgment,  I  have 
never  met  his  equal.  Whatever  others  may  have  done,  he 
was,  in  the  opinion  of  all  who  knew  him  most  fully,  America's 
best  and  soundest  philologist,  and  his  death,  in  the  maturity 
and  highest  activity  of  his  powers,  is  a  national  calamity,  a 
calamity  to  the  world  of  scholars.  Especially  painful  and 
irreparable  to  me  has  been  the  loss  of  a  fellow-student  to 
whom  I  had  for  twenty-three  years  looked  up  as  a  teacher,  a 
colleague  and  friend  whose  counsel  and  sympathy  I  had  ?o 
long  enjoyed,  and  the  purity  and  elevation  of  whose,  character 
had  been  to  me  a  model  of  human  excellence ;  and  I  have 
found  it  a  very  sad  pleasure  to  assist  his  family  in  arranging 
and  publishing  this  memorial  of  his  high  and  varied  scholar 
ship. 

W.  D.  WHITNEY. 

YALE  COLLEGE,  NEW  HAVEN,  April,  1873. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Preface Ill 

I.   The  Ionian  Migration  : 

1.  The  lonians  before  the  Ionian  Migration I 

2.  Recent   Discussion  and  Opinion  concerning  the  Ionian  Migra 

tion 20 

II.   The  Root  prach  in  the  Greek  Language 37 

III.  The  Greek  Genitive  as  an  Ablative  Case 44 

IV.  On  Bekker's  Digammated  Text  of  Homer 56 

V.   On  Ancient  Greek  Rhythm  and  Metre Si 

VI.   On  the  Nature  and  Theory  of  the  Greek  Accent no 

VII.    On  the  Byzantine  Greek  Pronunciation  of  the  Tenth  Century,  as  illus 
trated  by  a  Manuscript  in  the  Bodleian  Library 128 

VIII.   Ross  on  Italicans  and  Greeks , 141 

IX.   On  Indo-European  Aspirate  Mutes 168 

X.   Oh  the  Formation  of  Indo-European  Futures 184 

XL   On  Passive  Formations 199 

XII.   Remarks  on  the  Uses  of  the  Latin  Subjunctive 215 

XIII.  On  the  Origin  of  the  English  Possessive  Case 221 

XIV.  Ellis's  Early  English  Pronunciation 240 

XV.   On  English  Vowel  Quantity  in  the  Thirteenth  Century  and  in  the 

Nineteenth 263 

XVI.   Tennyson's  Princess 296 

XVII.   The  Number  Seven 325 

XVIII.   Decisions  of  College  Class  Disputes  : 

1.  Are  the  Writings  of  Lord  Byron  Immoral  in  their  Tendency?..   346 

2.  Is  Ancient  Eloquence  Superior  to  Modern  ? 349 

3.  Is  a  Reform  Desirable  in  the  Method  of  Writing  the  English 

Language  ? 351 

4.  Was  Civil  Liberty  in  Europe  promoted  by  the  Career  of  Napo 

leon  ? 356 

5.  Is  Europe  tending  to  Republicanism  ? 3^1 

6.  Should  Day-Dreaming  be  indulged  in  ? 369 

7.  Can  Immortality  be  shown  from  the  Light  of  Nature  ? 373 

8.  Is  an  exclusively  Vegetable  Diet  Advantageous? 379 

XIX.   On  the  Hebrew  Chronology  from  Moses  to  Solomon 385 

XX.   On  the  Language  of  Palestine  at  the  Time  of  Christ 403 

Index 419 


I. 

THE  IONIANS  BEFORE  THE  IONIAN  MIGRATION.* 

1856. 

THE  name  of  Ernst  Curtius  is  well  known  to  American 
scholars  from  his  excellent  volumes  on  the  geography  of 
Peloponnesus,  as  well  as  several  smaller  works.  His  essay, 
published  last  year  under  the  title  above  given,  presents  novel 
and  interesting  views  in  regard  to  the  earliest  times  of  Greece. 
I  propose  in  this  article  to  give  a  brief  statement  of  those 
views,  with  some  criticism  of  the  arguments  by  which  they 
are  supported.  It  will  appear,  as  I  proceed,  that  the  subject, 
though  belonging  to  Greek  history,  is  one  which  has  its  claims 
upon  the  attention  of  an  Oriental  Society. 

At  the  outset  of  authentic  Greek  history,  we  find  the  west 
ern  coast  of  Asia  Minor,  with  the  neighboring  islands,  occu 
pied  by  Greeks,  undoubted  members  of  the  Hellenic  body. 
Of  these  the  largest  portion,  extending  on  the  mainland  from 
the  mouth  of  the  Hermus  to  that  of  the  Mreander,  and  hold 
ing  the  important  islands  of  Chios  and  Samos,  called  them 
selves  lonians — a  name  which  belonged  to  them  in  common 
with  the  inhabitants  of  Attica  and  Eubcea  on  the  west  of  the 
yEgean,  as  well  as  the  island  group  of  the  Cyclades  in  the 
centre  of  that  sea.  The  Asiatic  lonians,  after  passing  through 
a  long  career  of  independence  and  prosperity,  were  incorpo 
rated  about  550  B.  C.  into  the  kingdom  of  the  Lydian  Croesus, 
along  with  which  they  came  only  a  few  years  later  into  the 
more  comprehensive  and  permanent  empire  of  the  Persian 
Cyrus.  This  was  the  close  of  their  independent  existence. 
For  its  commencement  we  must  go  back  to  the  mythic  period 
— at  least  to  a  period  lying  on  the  debatable  ground  between 
history  and  mythus.  In  the  traditions  of  the  Greeks  as  to 
their  own  early  times,  we  find  the  origin  of  the  Asiatic  lo- 

*  Die  lonier  vor  der  Ionise  hen  Wanderung,  von  Ernst  Curtius.     Berlin,  1855. 
8vo.  pp.  56. 
I 


2  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

nians  traced  up  to  an  ancient  colonization  from  the  west,  by 
emigrants  who  came  from  European  Greece.  This  emigra 
tion  is  represented  as  one  consequence,  among  many,  of  the 
great  event  which  stands  on  the  threshold  of  Greek  history, 
itself  obscurely  seen,  but  sufficiently  recognized  as  the  cause 
or  occasion  of  almost  all  we  see  in  early  Greece — the  invasion 
and  conquest  of  Peloponnesus  by  the  Dorians.  The  story  is 
briefly  this:  I  condense  from  Grote.  "A  multitude  of 
refugees  from  various  parts  of  Greece,  fleeing  before  the  Dori 
an  invaders,  sought  shelter  in  Attica.  Alarmed  by  the  grow 
ing  population  of  that  territory,  the  Dorians  of  Peloponnesus 
marched  against  it  with  a  powerful  army  ;  but  finding  that 
victory  had  been  assured  to  the  Athenians  by  the  generous 
self-devotion  of  their  king  Codrus,  they  gave  up  the  enterprise 
and  returned  home.  The  Athenians  on  the  death  of  Codrus 
abolished  the  kingship  ;  but  his  descendants  for  several  gener 
ations  held  the  supreme  power  as  archons  for  life.  His  two 
sons,  Medon  and  Neileus,  having  quarreled  about  the  succes 
sion,  the  Delphian  oracle  decided  in  favor  of  the  former  ; 
whereupon  the  latter,  affronted  at  the  preference,  resolved  to 
seek  a  new  home.  There  were  at  this  moment  many  dispos 
sessed  sections  of  Greeks,  and  an  adventitious  population, 
accumulated  in  Athens,  who  were  anxious  for  settlements 
beyond  sea.  The  expeditions  which  now  set  forth  to  cross 
the  /Egean,  chiefly  under  the  conduct  of  members  of  the 
Codrid  family,  composed  collectively  the  memorable  Ionic 
Emigration,  of  which  the  lonians,  recently  expelled  from 
Peloponnesus,  formed  only  a  part ;  for  we  hear  of  many  quite 
distinct  races,  some  renowned  in  legend,  who  withdrew  from 
Greece  amidst  this  assemblage  of  colonists.  The  Kadmeiahs, 
the  Minyae  of  Orchomenus,  the  Abantes  of  Eubcea,  the  Dry- 
opes  ;  the  Molossi,  the  Phokians,  the  Boeotians,  the  Arcadian 
Pelasgians,  and  even  the  Dorians  of  Epidaurus — are  repre 
sented  as  furnishing  each  a  proportion  of  the  crews  of  those 
emigrant  vessels.  At  the  same  time  other  mythic  families 
beside  the  Codrids,  the  lineage  of  Neleus  and  Nestor,  took 
part  in  the  expedition.  Herodotus  mentions  Lykian  chiefs, 
descendants  of  Glaukus,  and  Pausanias  tells  us  of  Philotas  a 
descendant  of  Peneleos,  who  went  at  the  head  of  a  body  of 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  3 

Thcbans.  Prokles,  the  chief  who  conducted  the  Ionic  emi 
grants  from  Epidaurus  to  .Samos,  was  said  to  be  of  the  lineage 
of  Ion  son  of  Xuthus.  The  results  were  not  unworthy  of 
this  great  gathering  of  chiefs  and  races.  The  Cyclades  were 
colonized,  as  also  the  large  islands  of  Samos  and  Chios  near 
the  Asiatic  shore,  while  ten  different  cities  on  the  coast  of 
Asia  Minor,  from  Miletus  on  the  south  to  Phokasa  on  the 
north,  were  founded,  and  all  adopted  the  Ionic  name.  Athens 
was  the  metropolis  or  mother  city  of  all  of  them  :  Androklus 
and  Neileus,  the  CEkists  of  Ephesus  and  Miletus,  and  proba 
bly  other  QEkists  also,  started  from  the  Prytaneium  at  Athens 
with  those  solemnities,  religious  and  political,  which  usually 
marked  the  departure  of  a  swarm  of  Grecian  colonists."  Such 
is  the  traditional  account.  The  main  fact  contained  in  it  may 
be  regarded  as  certain — that  after  the  Dorian  conquest  of 
southern  Greece,  and  in  consequence  of  that  event,  large 
bodies  of  Greeks,  the  most  important  part  of  them  lonians, 
set  forth,  chiefly  from  the  coast  of  Attica,  to  cross  the  ./Egean 
Sea.  The  time  of  this  migration  may  be  set  down  by  a  loose 
approximation  at  IOOO  years  before  our  era. 

Now  the  principal  thesis  of  Curtius  in  his  Essay  is  this  : 
that  in  the  migration  just  described,  the  lonians  of  Greece 
were  going  home,  to  their  own  country  and  kindred.  It  was 
the  returning  emigration  to  a  land  from  which,  ages  before, 
their  fathers  had  passed  over  into  Greece— and  not  only  that, 
but  a  land  which  had  never  ceased  to  be  occupied  by  the 
same  race,  by  a  people  of  Ionian  name  and  lineage.  They 
found,  on  arriving  in  Asia,  not  only  Dardanians,  Carians,  Ly- 
cians,  and  other  tribes,  which  Curtius  regards  as  differing 
not  very  widely  from  lonians  in  language  and  culture  :  but 
they  found  there  lonians,  identified  with  themselves  by  virtue 
of  the  common  name,  origin,  and  traditions.  They  found  in 
fact  the  lonians — the  principal  branch  as  well  as  the  elder  of 
their  race— who  in  these  Asiatic  seats  had  risen  to  a  height  of 
achievement  and  reputation  not  yet  equalled  by  any  Greeks  of 
Europe.  Let  us,  however,  trace  the  theory  more  in  detail, 
going  back  to  its  remote  starting-point  in  the  past,  beyond 
the  reach  of  history,  beyond  the  reach  even  of  mythus,  where 
only  ethnographic  science  can  furnish  any  glimmering  of  light. 


4  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

The  primitive  Aryan  colonization,  flowing  westward  from 
Armenia  into  Asia  Minor,  filled  the  elevated  plateaux  of  that 
peninsula  with  Phrygian  races.  Here  the  Greeks,  long  iden 
tified  with  the  Phrygian  stock,  first  begin  to  be  distinguished 
as  Greeks,  with  a  stamp  and  nationality  of  their  own.  Here 
they  develop  what  must  be  considered  as  the  common  type 
of  Hellenism  in  language  and  character.  But  almost  from 
the  beginning  they  divide  themselves  into  two  great  sections. 
The  one  is  that  afterwards  known  in  history  as  the  Ionian. 
The  other  includes  the  remaining  fractions  of  the  Greek  na 
tion  :  we  might  call  it  Hellenic  in  a  narrower  sense,  as  being 
first  to  assume  the  Hellenic  name  :  it  is  sometimes  called 
^Eolo-Dorian,  from  the  designations  of  its  leading  members 
in  the  historic  period.  After  a  time  these  sections  part  com 
pany.  The  latter  or  Hellenic  section  break  up  from  Asia, 
cross  the  Hellespont  and  Propontis,  and  find  new  seats  in 
the  mountains  of  Thrace  and  Macedonia.  Here  they  remain 
in  isolated  Alpine  valleys,  forming  their  separate  local  con 
stitutions,  until,  dislodged  by  new  movements  of  population, 
and  pressed  southward,  they  make  their  appearance  in  dif 
ferent  masses,  as  ^Eolians,  Dorians,  Achaeans,  in  Northern 
Greece.  Here  again  in  the  course  of  time  new  causes  arise, 
which  carry  portions  at  least  of  these  tribes  still  further  in  the 
same  direction,  into  Central  and  Southern  Greece.  Hence 
the  occupation  of  Peloponnesus  by  the  Achseans,  whom  the 
Homeric  poems  represent  to  us  as  seated  in  that  territory 
and  exercising  full  ascendancy.  And  hence  too  the  later  and 
far  more  important  conquest  of  the  same  territory  by  the 
Dorians  and  their  auxiliaries. 

The  lonians  meanwhile  remain  in  Asia  Minor,  but  no 
longer  in  the  highlands  of  the  interior.  Descending  gradu 
ally  along  the  great  river-valleys,  they  at  length  reach  the 
^Egean  sea,  and  then,  spreading  themselves  northward  and 
southward,  occupy  the  whole  western  coast — possessing  thus 
a  territory  distinguished  alike  for  the  richness  of  its  soil  and 
the  genial  beauty  of  its  climate.  They  are  closely  connected 
here  by  proximity  and  by  intercourse  with  other  tribes,  such 
as  the  Dardanians,  Lycians,  Carians,  Leleges,  from  whom  in 
fact  they  are  not  separated  by  any  broad  lines  of  ethnical 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  5 

distinction.  Under  these  circumstances  they  enter  upon  a 
career  of  activity  and  culture,  which  appears  to  have  received 
its  impulse  from  the  Phoenicians,  and  to  have  been  shared  in, 
more  or  less,  by  the  other  tribes  just  mentioned.  Visited  at 
first  by  the  Phoenicians  for  the  purposes  of  trade,  they  soon 
learned  from  them  the  art  of  navigation,  and  set  up  business 
on  their  own  account,  as  the  rivals  of  their  late  masters.  As 
sociated  with  the  Phoenicians  in  many  parts'  of  the  ^Egean, 
and  supplanting  them  in  others,  they  have  become  inextricably 
confused  with  them  in  the  traditions  of  the  Greeks.  The 
Ionian  myth  which  represents  Byblus,  one  of  the  oldest 
Phoenician  cities,  as  the  daughter  of  Miletus,  shows  perhaps 
that  the  lonians  gained  a  foothold  even  on  the  coast  of  Syria  ; 
at  any  rate,  it  is  a  proof  of  close  connection  between  these 
two  maritime  peoples.  There  is  clearer  evidence  to  show 
that  the  lonians  visited  the  coast  of  Egypt,  and  even  estab 
lished  settlements,  more  or  less  permanent,  in  the  marshy 
Delta  of  the  Nile.  This  was  regarded  by  the  Egyptians 
themselves  almost  as  foreign  territory  ;  since  we  find  that 
Psammetichus — the  same  prince,  who,  perhaps  a  thousand 
years  later,  opened  the  whole  country  to  the  Greeks — when 
banished  from  Egypt,  took  refuge  in  the  Delta.  And  the 
men  of  brass  who  were  announced  to  Psammetichus,  while 
there,  as  having  just  made  their  appearance,  and  who  proved 
to  be  a  party  of  Ionian  rovers  recently  landed,  were  but  a 
specimen  of  their  own  countrymen,  who,  a  thousand  years 
earlier,  made  repeated  descents  upon  the  same  coast  for  the 
mingled  purposes  of  traffic  and  plunder.  But  the  attention 
of  the  lonians  was  naturally  directed  more  to  the  west, 
Crossing  the  ./Egean  Sea,  they  occupy  first  the  Cyclades,  and 
then  Euboea  and  Attica.  They  establish  their  settlements  on 
the  Pagasaean  Gulf,  and  on  both  sides  of  the  Euripus.  Traces 
of  them  are  found  along  the  whole  eastern  coast  of  Pelopon 
nesus,  in  Corinth,  Epidaurus,  Trcezen,  Argos,  and  even  in 
the  island  of  Cythera.  Passing  over  the  Isthmus,  they  ap 
pear  in  the  Corinthian  Gulf,  where  we  find  them  in  southern 
Phocis,  and  much  more  in  northern  Peloponnesus,  in  the  dis 
trict  afterward  called  Achaia.  From  thence  they  spread 
southward  over  Elis  and  Messene  in  western  Peloponnesus; 


6  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

and  having  thus  reached  the  Ionian  Sea,  they  occupy  the 
Ithacan  islands,  and  extend  themselves  northward  to  the 
island  of  Corcyra,  and  the  coasts  of  Epirus  and  Illyria. 
More  than  this  :  in  the  mythic  wanderings  of  yEneas,  Curtius 
would  recognize  a  traditionary  representation  of  Ionian  set 
tlement,  which  must  then  have  stretched  along  the  western 
coast  of  Italy  from  Eryx  to  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber.  Even 
in  Sardinia,  he  considers  the  name  of  a  people  called  the 
lolaeans,  and  of  their  founder  lolaos,  as  giving  evidence  of 
early  Ionian  colonization. 

Throughout  the  course  of  these  migrations,  the  lonians  carry 
with  them  the  culture  of  the  vine  and  the  worship  of  the  wine- 
god  Dionysus,  Everywhere  we  find  them  settling  along  the 
coasts,  and  showing  an  especial  preference  for  the  rich,  though 
marshy,  alluvium  at  the  mouth  of  rivers.  Occasionally,  how 
ever,  they  follow  up  a  river-valley  quite  into  the  interior  of  a 
district,  as  in  Bceotia,  where  the  Asopus  leads  them  to  the  in 
land  city  of  Thebes.  Everywhere  wandering  in  ships,  they 
wander  without  women  ;  and  hence  their  colonization  appears 
as  the  establishment  of  a  few  foreign  settlers  among  a  native 
population,  whom  they  do  not  attempt  to  dispossess,  but  ex 
ercise  over  them  the  natural  ascendancy  of  superior  ability 
and  civilization.  Thus  in  Attica  there  is  no  change  of  popu 
lation  :  the  primitive  people,  whom  Greek  tradition  names 
Pelasgi,  remain  in  their  old  seats,  unchanged  except  as  they 
are  civilized,  Ionized  by  trie  foreigners  from  Asia.  The  Egyp 
tian  Cecrops,  the  mythic  author  of  civilization  in  Attica,  is 
no  proper  Egyptian,  but  an  Ionian,  who  had  become  domi 
ciled  in  Egypt,  A  similar  view  is  taken  of  Danaus  the 
Egyptian  founder  of  Argos.  These  traditions  of  early  con 
nections  between  Egypt  and  Greece  are,  in  the  view  of  Curtius, 
too  deeply  rooted  and  too  widely  ramified  to  have  sprung  up, 
as  K.  O.  Miiller  assumed,  after  the  comparatively  recent  pe 
riod  when  the  Egyptians  under  Psammetichus  came  into 
closer  relations  with  the  Greeks.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
seems  equally  evident  that  no  influence  strictly  and  properly 
Egyptian  could  have  had  a  leading  part  in  moulding  the  civi 
lization,  substantially  homogeneous  and  independent,  of  early 
Greece.  The  difficulty  finds  its  solution  in  the  view  that  these 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  J 

Egyptian  settlers,  who  figure  in  tradition,  were  lonians,  who 
had  found  a  residence  in  Egypt  and  came  from  thence  to 
Greece.  The  Phoenician  Cadmus  and  his  colonization  of 
Thebes  are  treated  in  the  same  way.  Curtius  does  not  deny, 
indeed,  that  there  were  in  Greece,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent, 
ancient  settlements  of  native  Phoenicians  ;  but  he  maintains 
confidently  that  no  such  alien  Semitic  settlers  could  have 
gained  historic  importance  as  founders  of  royal  or  sacerdotal 
families.  It  is  of  course  still  easier  to  connect  the  Phrygian 
Pelops,  and  his  immigration  into  the  peninsula  which  took  his 
name,  with  the  colonial  extension  of  the  Ionian  race.  The 
Argonautic  expedition  is  a  story  of  Ionian  adventure.  Its 
leader,  who  comes  into  Thessaly  an  unknown  wanderer,  bears 
a  name,  Jason  ('Ido-cov),  which  stamps  him  as  Ionian  ;  and 
its  Thessalian  starting-point,  lolcos  or  laolcos,  is  with  great 
probability  explained  as  meaning  '  the  naval  station  of  the 
lonians.' 

Here  on  the  coast  of  Thessaly  the  lonians  are  again  brought 
into  contact  with  their  brethren  of  ^Eolo-Dorian  descent. 
After  a  local  separation  of  generations  and  centuries,  these 
long-sundered  sections  of  the  Grecian  people  are  brought  once 
more  into  local  connection.  The  most  conspicuous  result  is 
the  formation  of  the  celebrated  Amphictyonic  League,  the 
oldest  and  largest  and  most  influential  of  the  Grecian  Amphic- 
tyonies.  It  is  a  religious  association  of  Thessalian  tribes 
(neighbors  to  one  another,  ^Ajju^ncriove^)  for  the  common 
worship  of  the  god  Apollo.  The  lonians,  after  being  for  a 
long  time  worshippers  preeminently  of  the  god  Poseidon,  of 
whom  the  western  Greeks  at  that  time  knew  as  little  as 
of  the  element  he  ruled,  had  in  their  eastern  home  re 
ceived  the  Apollo-worship— a  new  religion,  as  Curtius  calls 
it,  which  everywhere  exercised  a  transforming  and  inspiring 
influence  on  its  converts.  Zealously  devoted  to  its  propa 
gation,  they  introduced  it  among  their  brethren  of  Thessaly. 
Thus  in  the  Amphictyonic  deity  we  find  a  proof  of  Ionian  in 
fluence  ;  which  appears  further  in  the  frequently-recurring 
Ionian  number  twelve,  as  that  of  the  confederate  tribes.  The 
Amphictyonic  League,  though  primarily  a  religious  organiza 
tion,  expressed  political  aspirations,  and  worked  toward  po- 


8  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

litical  results.  It  produced  a  feeling  of  closer  union  and  of 
common  brotherhood  among  its  members,  which  led  to  the 
adoption  of  the  Hellenic  name  as  a  common  designation  for 
the  united  Amphictyonic  people.  Hellen  in  the  myths  is 
either  father  or  ^brother  of  Amphictyon.  Hence  the  tribes 
of  Macedonia  and  Epirus,  however  closely  resembling  the 
Hellenes,  never  received  the  Hellenic  name,  which  belongs 
only  to  the  Amphictyonic  tribes  and  the  districts  which  come 
under  their  control  or  influence. 

Although  Ionian  influence,  as  we  have  seen,  was  predomi 
nant  in  the  origin  of  the  Delphic  Amphictyony,  that  first  re 
union  and  organization  of  the  Greek  races,  yet  the  relative 
weight  of  parties  did  not  always  remain  the  same.  A  re 
action  at  length  commenced — a  reaction  of  the  older  tribes  in 
the  interior  against  the  newer  occupants  of  the  sea -board — of 
the  western  Greeks  against  their  emigrant  brethren  from  the 
east.  The  ruder  tribes  of  Thessaly,  receiving  the  imported 
civilization  of  the  lonians,  come  at  length  to  feel  themselves 
the  equals  of  their  late  instructors,  and  can  no  longer  brook 
the  ascendancy  to  which  they  at  first  submitted.  Hence  a 
decided  revolution  in  the  political  state  of  Greece,  proceeding 
from  Thessaly,  and  having  for  its  ultimate  result  the  almost 
complete  expulsion  of  the  lonians  from  European  Greece. 
But  this  revolution  is  the  work  of  ages,  and  has  its  different 
epochs,  according  to  the  different  races  who  successively  ap 
pear  to  carry  it  forward. 

First,  the  ^Eolians,  who  are  represented  in  the  traditions  as 
arising  from  a  mixture  of  the  inland  tribes  with  the  maritime 
population  of  the  sea-board.  Though  in  fact  supplanting  the 
lonians,  they  do  not  appear  as  their  opponents  or  even  as 
their  rivals.  The  yEolids  are  themselves  bearers  of  Ionian 
cultivation  and  the  worship  of  Poseidon  ;  their  royal  seats,  as 
lolcos  and  Corinth,  are  stations  of  Ionian  colonization  ;  their 
mythic  heroes,  as  Jason  and  Sisyphus,  are  representatives  of 
Asiatic  culture. 

Second,  the  Achaeans  are  likewise  in  many  ways  closely 
connected  with  the  lonians,  as  the  mythus  intimates,  when  it 
makes  both  Ion  and  Achaeus  sons  of  Apollo.  Yet  the  mili 
tary  exaltation  of  the  Achaeans  is  the  first  great  blow  to  Ionian 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  9 

preponderance  in  Greece.  While  the  Achaeans  of  Phthiotis 
press  on  toward  the  sea-coast  of  Thessaly,  the  other  branch 
of  that  people  conquer  the  Peloponnesus,  form  new  states 
there  hostile  to  the  lonians,  whom  they  expel  from  Troezen 
and  other  parts  of  Argolis,  and  with  fleets  of  their  own  begin 
those  struggles  with  the  tribes  of  Asia  Minor  which  are  com 
memorated  in  the  legends  of  the  Trojan  war — a  war  in  which 
the  Ionian  peoples,  as  the  Athenians,  take  scarcely  any  part, 
while  heroes  akin  to  the  lonians,  as  Palamedes  and  Odysseus, 
enter  into  it  with  reluctance. 

Third,  the  Dorians,  a  people  much  more  alien  to  the  lonians 
and  much  more  independent  of  their  influence  ;  a  people  who 
adhere  with  tenacity  to  their  original  peculiarities  of  life  and 
character  ;  in  them  was  first  seen  the  full  native  vigor  of  the 
mountain  tribes.  Breaking  up  from  their  scats  in  Mt.  CEta, 
they  cross  the  Corinthian  Gulf,  by  a  gradual  conquest  over 
throw  the  Achaean  power,  and  make  themselves  masters  of 
nearly  all  Peloponnesus.  As  they  advance,  the  lonians  every 
where  lose  ground  ;  on  all  sides  they  are  driven  back  to  their 
ships  :  and  now  begins  a  great  retreat  of  the  lonians  from 
their  settlements  in  the  west ;  a  great  return  to  their  mother 
country  on  the  east  of  the  ^Egean  Sea.  Only  in  Attica  do 
they  at  last  succeed  in  making  an  effectual  stand  :  thus  main 
taining  a  foothold  in  European  Greece,  and  preventing  Hel 
lenic  history  from  being  again  divided,  as  it  had  been,  ages 
before,  between  two  distinct  races  upon  opposite  sides  of  the 
^Egean.  Even  in  Asia  Minor  they  are  not  by  themselves. 
Achaean  and  Dorian  colonies  reproduce  there  the  collisions  of 
western  Greece,  keeping  up  a  restless  activity  of  mind,  by 
which  Ionian  art  is  stimulated  to  a  rapid  development,  until 
it  puts  forth  its  fairest  blossom  in  the  Homeric  Epos.  Still, 
in  the  Dorian  and  ^Eolian  districts  of  Asia  Minor,  the  basis 
of  population  remained  essentially  Ionian  :  and  in  the  Ionian 
revolt,  as  it  is  called,  the  whole  people  of  the  western  coast, 
from  Lycia  to  the  Propontis,  rose  as  one  people  against  the 
barbarian  conqueror. 

Such  is  the  theory  of  this  ingenious  and  strikingly  written 
essay.  Before  taking  up  any  points  in  the  argument  on  which 
it  rests,  we  must  observe  that  this  idea  of  lonians  in  Asia  pre- 


I O  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

vious  to  the  Ionian  Migration  is  wholly  foreign  to  the  mythic 
or  semi-historical  traditions  of  the  Greeks  themselves.  It  may 
be  shown,  perhaps,  that  in  those  traditions  there  are  state 
ments  which  imply  the  existence  of  a  primitive  Ionian  people 
in  that  region  ;  statements  which  cannot  be  explained  on  any 
other  supposition.  But  it  is  confessedly  true  that  the  tradi 
tions  conveyed  no  such  idea  to  the  ancient  Greeks  who  had 
them  ;  certainly  not,  after  they  had  assumed  the  forms  in 
which  they  have  come  down  to  us. 

In  looking  at  the  evidence  on  which  our  author  relies,  to 
sustain  a  proposition  of  which  no  memory  is  found  in  the 
most  ancient  literature  and  tradition  of  Greece,  it  is  natural  to 
inquire,  first,  whether  any  testimony  can  be  gleaned  from  early 
Oriental  sources.  Here  Curtius  finds  a  confirmation  of  his 
views  in  the  name  given  to  the  Greeks  by  all  the  ancient 
nations  of  the  East.  It  is  well  known  that  the  common  form 
"Icovei  is  made  by  a  contraction  of  the  earlier  'Idoves  ;  and  there 
is  great  reason  to  believe  that  this  latter  form  had  originally  a 
medial  digamma,  and  was  pronounced  'laFoves,  sing.  'larcov. 
Now  the  Greeks  are  called  by  the  Indians  Javanas,  by  the 
Hebrews  J avail,  by  the  Persians  Juna  or  Jauna,  in  Aramaic 
Jaunojo,  in  Arabic  Jaumini,  in  Armenian  Juin,  and  in  Coptic 
Uinin.  It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  these  are  all  forms  of 
one  and  the  same  name  ;  and  that  this  is  no  other  than  'larwv 
or  'Ia/<we?,  the  special  name  of  the  Ionian  Greeks.  We  may 
not  unreasonably  suppose  that  it  was  the  Phoenicians  who  first 
applied  this  name  as  a  common  designation  for  the  whole 
Greek  people,  and  that  the  widely-extended  commerce  of  the 
Phoenicians  was  the  means  of  its  diffusion  throughout  Asia. 
It  is  further  probable  that  the  Phoenicians  had  the  name  in 
this  use  of  it  before  the  time  of  the  Ionian  Migration.  We 
find  it  in  the  tenth  chapter  of  the  book  of  Genesis,  in  the  list 
of  Noachids,  where  it  undoubtedly  refers,  not  to  a  part  of 
the  Greeks,  but  to  the  whole  people.  This  document,  if  of 
Mosaic  origin,  is  at  least  thirteen  centuries  older  than  the 
Christian  era  :  while,  even  among  those  who  deny  its  Mosaic 
origin,  it  is  allowed  by  all  the  sounder  critics  to  be  older  than 
the  division  of  the  Hebrew  monarchy.  But  this  occurred 
about  1000  B,  C,,  perhaps  at  the  same  time  with  the  Ionian 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  1 1 

Migration,  probably  not  later  than  that  event.  What  shall 
we  conclude,  then,  from  this  early  use  of  the  Ionian  name  as 
a  designation  for  the  whole  Hellenic  people  ?  Curtius  replies 
— the  fact  is  inexplicable  unless  we  assume  that,  of  all  the 
Grecian  tribes,  the  Ionian  was  the  first  which  became  known 
to  the  Orientals  ;  it  must  have  existed  as  their  neighbor  and 
carried  on  intercourse  with  them  by  land  and  water,  not 
simply  as  early  or  a  little  earlier  than  yEolians  and  Dorians, 
but  long  before  all  other  Greeks.  It  appears  to  me  that  this 
lancfuaee  overstates  the  case.  On  the  coast  of  Syria  at  the 

o          o  -^ 

present  day  all  Europeans  are  Franks.  Yet  other  nations  of 
Europe  beside  the  French  were  represented  in  the  first  cru 
sade,  and  still  more  in  the  second,  which  followed  only  a  half 
century  later.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Europeans  have  given 
the  common  name  of  Tartars  to  the  nomadic  tribes  east  of  the 
Caspian  Sea.  Yet  it  is  certain  that  even  the  first  invading 
hordes,  which  entered  Europe  under  the  successors  of  Gen- 
ghiz  Khan,  were  not  composed  wholly  or  principally  of  Tartars 
properly  so  called.  Because  the  French  give  the  name  of 
Allemands  to  all  the  Germans,  it  surely  does  not  follow  that 
their  ancestors  for  a  long  time  were  acquainted  with  no  Ger 
mans  except  those  included  in  the  Alemannic  confederacy. 
As  to  the  case  in  hand,  we  can  only  say  (assuming  that  the 
Phoenicians  were  the  first  who  used  Ionian  for  Greek)  that 
either  the  lonians  were  the  first  Greeks  known  to  the  Phoeni 
cians,  or  they  were  somehow,  from  greater  proximity,  or 
closer  intercourse,  or  some  one  of  many  other  possible  rea 
sons,  more  prominently  present  to  the  view  of  the  Phoeni 
cians,  when  this  use  of  the  name  originated. 

A  second  testimony  is  supposed  to  be  furnished  by  early 
Egyptian  records.  On  the  celebrated  Rosetta  stone,  and  on 
other  monuments  of  the  Macedonian  and  Roman  periods,  the 
idea  'Greek'  is  represented  by  a  hieroglyphic  group  consist 
ing,  first,  of  three  papyrus  plants  standing  side  by  side,  and 
secondly,  of  three  baskets  placed  one  above  another.  These 
elements,  it  is  said,  give  the  meaning  '  Lords  of  the  North.' 
The  pronunciation  of  the  group,  as  determined  by  a  compari 
son  of  the  demotic  characters  in  the  Rosetta  inscription,  is 
said  to  be  unquestionably  Uinen^  which  we  have  just  seen  to 


1 2  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

be  the  Coptic  name  for  the  Greeks.  Now  the  same  hiero 
glyphic  group  is  found  upon  a  series  of  monuments  belonging 
to  the  early  Pharaohs,  and  always  in  reference  to  a  people 
described  as  subject  to  the  kings  of  Egypt.  Of  these  kings, 
some — as  Amenophis  II,  Sethos  I  or  Sesonchis  I — belong  to 
the  great  heroic  dynasties  of  Thebes,  the  eighteenth  and  nine 
teenth  dynasties,  in  the  fifteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  : 
others  to  the  twenty-second  dynasty  and  the  tenth  century, 
as  Sesonchis,  the  Shishak  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  con 
queror  of  Jerusalem.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  several  of 
the  early  Egyptian  sovereigns  claimed  to  be  masters  of  the 
Uinen,  lonians  or  Greeks.  Curtius  docs  not  suppose,  what 
indeed  would  be  in  the  highest  degree  improbable,  that  these 
records  refer  to  expeditions  by  sea  or  land  sent  out  from 
Egypt  to  the  western  border  of  Asia  Minor,  and  there  sub 
duing  or  pretending  to  subdue  the  Ionian  population  of  the 
country.  He  considers  them  as  referring  to  lonians  of  Egypt, 
settled  in  the  Delta  of  the  Nile,  who  may  at  various  times 
have  been  attacked  and  perhaps  reduced  to  submission,  more 
or  less  complete,  by  native  sovereigns  of  the  country.  It 
appears  from  the  researches  of  Lepsius  that  this  name  belongs 
to  a  group  containing  nine  names  of  nations,  which  recur  in 
the  same  fixed  order,  the  supposed  Uinen  standing  first  among 
them,  and  Egypt  itself,  upper  and  lower,  being  included  in 
the  series.  That  all  the  others  beside  Egypt  belong  to  foreign 
nations  is  inferred  from  the  fact  that  in  a  Theban  tomb  the 
bearers  of  the  two  Egyptian  shields  are  plainly  distinguished 
from  the  other  seven  by  their  red  complexion  and  peculiar 
hair-dress.  These  are  the  statements.  If  they  really  prove 
that  Ionian  settlements  were  made  in  Egypt  as  early  as  four 
teen  or  fifteen  centuries  before  Christ,  they  doubtless  serve  to 
confirm  the  theory  of  Curtius.  It  does  not  appear,  indeed, 
that  the  monuments  give  any  direct  indication  as  to  what  part 
of  the  world  these  Uinen  (if  they  are  rightly  read  so)  come 
from.  But  it  is  certainly  more  probable  that  such  Ionian 
settlements,  if  actually  made  in  Egypt,  should  have  been  made 
from  Asia  Minor  than  from  European  Greece.  But  we  seem 
to  have  here  what  may  eventually  turn  out  to  be  a  good  argu 
ment,  rather  than  what  we  can  now  receive  and  rely  upon  as 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  1 3 

such.  Even  Curtius  does  not  appear  to  expect  that  it  will 
produce  general  conviction.  "  Every  first  attempt,"  he  says, 
"  to  connect  Greek  and  Egyptian  history  with  one  another, 
to  supplement  the  beginnings  of  one  by  materials  drawn  from 
the  other,  must,  however  cautiously  undertaken,  encounter 
manifold  objection,  consisting  either  in  a  vague  and  general 
want  of  confidence,  or  in  scientific  doubts  as  to  the  correctness 
of  the  method  and  the  certainty  of  the  facts  made  use  of."  In 
the  present  case  our  suspicions  are  stronger  from  the  ob 
scurity  which  rests  on  other  names  of  conquered  nations 
found  upon  the  monuments  of  these  ancient  Pharaohs  ;  hardly 
two  or  three  of  them,  it  is  said,  have  been  identified  with  cer 
tainty.  We  must  add,  however,  that  Lepsius  accepts  without 
hesitation  the  views  of  Curtius  upon  this  point :  he  has  no 
doubt  that  the  name  in  question  refers  to  Ionian  Greeks 
settled  in  Egypt,  "  so  that,  as  early  as  the  sixteenth  and  fif 
teenth  centuries,  lonians — that  is,  at  least  a  part,  a  considera 
ble  colony  of  that  people — were  dependent  on  the  Egyptian 
sovereigns." 

We  turn  now  from  Oriental  testimonies  to  inquire  how  far 
the  known  facts  of  Grecian  history  support  the  theory  in  ques 
tion.  Curtius  asserts  that  in  particular  localities  on  the  coast 
of  Asia  and  the  neighboring  islands  there  are  traces  of  Ionian 
occupancy  before  the  time  of  the  Ionian  Migration.  It  is  to 
be  regretted  that  he  has  not  drawn  out  more  at  length  this 
part  of  his  argument.  As  it  is,  the  few  brief  indications  which 
he  gives  hardly  suffice  to  make  a  definite  and  satisfactory  im 
pression.  Miletus  and  Ephesus,  he  says,  were  even  in  name 
nothing  but  renewals  of  older  settlements  :  and  the  same  fact 
is  expressly  attested  in  regard  to  Erythrae,  Chios,  and  Samos. 
Admitting  now  the  correctness  of  these  traditionary  notices, 
granting  that  the  places  mentioned  were  inhabited  before  the 
Ionian  Migration,  are  we  authorized  to  assume,  what  is  not 
contained  in  the  traditions,  that  these  earlier  occupants  were 
lonians?  What  more  natural  than  to  find  that,  among  the 
numerous  places  settled  by  these  colonists  from  Europe,  some 
had  been  previously  occupied  by  the  natives  of  the  country, 
who  may  have  abandoned  them  before  the  time  of  the  Ionian 
colonization  ;  or,  in  other  instances,  may  have  been  dispos- 


1 4  IONIA N  MIGRA  TION. 

sessecl  and  driven  out  by  the  colonists  themselves  ;  or,  again, 
may  have  remained  where  they  were,  submitting  to  the  new- 
corners  and  fusing  with  them  into  one  community. 

Again,  he  urges  that  the  worship  of  Apollo  Didymceus  in 
his  sanctuary  near  Miletus — a  worship  common  to  all  the 
lonians — appears  in  tradition  as  older  than  the  planting  of  the 
Ionian  colony  in  Miletus.  In  like  manner,  the  Delian  sanc 
tuary  of  Apollo  was  the  Mother-sanctuary  for  all  the  stations 
of  Apollo-worship  in  Greece,  and  must  therefore  have  existed 
earlier  than  the  Ionian  Migration,  though  tradition  very  dis 
tinctly  represents  the  island  of  Delos  as  having  at  that  time 
received  its  Greek  population  in  place  of  the  Carians,  its 
earlier  inhabitants,  I  would  not  say  there  is  no  force  in  the 
argument  derived  from  these  facts.  Yet  the  question  must  be 
raised  :  granting,  in  accordance  with  the  tradition,  the  primi 
tive  antiquity  of  these  places  as  stations  of  Apollo-worship, 
how  far  may  we  infer,  what  is  not  expressed  in  the  tradition, 
that  the  primitive  worshippers  were  lonians  ?  Curtius  him 
self  does  not  suppose  that  the  worship  of  Apollo  was  confined 
to  the  Greeks  :  he  will  not  venture  to  say  that  it  originated 
with  them  ;  he  believes  it  to  have  been  extensively  diffused 
among  the  non-Hellenic  tribes  of  western  Asia.  There  is  no 
strong  improbability  against  the  supposition  that  the  lonians, 
instead  of  founding  the  establishments  referred  to,  were  only 
the  successors  of  their  founders.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
nations  of  antiquity  regarded  it  as  a  point  of  great  importance 
to  keep  up  local  rites  of  worship,  even  in  conquered  places. 
Curtius  mentions  that  when  the  lonians  were  driven  out  by 
the  Achaeans  from  northern  Peloponnesus,  some  of  their 
families  were  retained  in  Helice,  in  order  to  continue  there 
the  former  \vorship  of  Poseidon.  And,  apart  from  this  gen 
eral  feeling,  the  lonians  were  little  likely  to  neglect  any  old 
and  celebrated  sanctuary  of  Apollo,  a  divinity  whom  they 
honored  with  peculiar  veneration. 

For  further  proof  of  primitive  Ionian  occupancy,  we  find 
our  author  referring  to  the  city  of  lasus,  situated  on  a  small 
island  near  the  coast  of  Caria.  Ng  tradition,  he  observes, 
was  able  to  refer  this  Carian  place  to  any  settlement  proceed 
ing  from  the  west ;  and  yet  lasus,  with  its  entire  environment, 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  1 5 

was,  in  more  than  name  alone,  a  genuine,  primitive  portion 
of  Ionia.  Now  the  Greek  character  of  this  place,  and  even 
its  Ionian  character,  will  be  readily  admitted.  But  we  know 
not  how  to  explain  the  statement  that  no  tradition  could  refer 
it  to  a  settlement  proceeding  from  the  west.  For  Polybius 
(xvi.  11),  in  a  passage  which  we  can  imagine  no  reason  for 
discrediting,  tells  us  expressly  that  lasus,  according  to  the 
assertion  of  its  people,  was  settled  by  a  colony  of  Argives, 
though,  having  afterwards  lost  a  considerable  portion  of  its 
citizens  in  a  war  with  the  Carians,  it  received  a  large  rein 
forcement  from  Miletus,  headed  by  a  son  of  Neilcus,  the 
Ionian  founder  of  the  latter  city.  lasus,  then,  appears  in  the 
same  class  with  other  Greek  cities  of  Asia,  which  referred 
their  origin  to  European  Greece  :  there  can  be  no  reason  why 
it  should  be  distinguished  from  the  rest,  as  furnishing  clearer 
evidence  of  a  primitive  Ionian  population  in  western  Asia, 

Curtius  argues  from  the  immediate  and  great  prosperity  of 
the  settlements  established  by  the  Ionian  Migration  that  they 
could  not  have  been  planted  among  an  alien  people,  on  coasts 
before  occupied  only  by  barbarians.  But  the  Greek  cities  of 
Sicily  and  Southern  Italy  were  founded  centuries  later,  in 
regions  where  the  previous  inhabitants  were  entirely  and 
unquestionably  barbarian  :  yet,  notwithstanding  this  original 
disadvantage,  such  was  their  progress  that,  in  the  time  of 
Xerxes,  Hicro  of  Syracuse  was  the  greatest  power  in  the 
independent  Grecian  world,  and  perhaps  a  match  for  all  others 
put  together.  And  later,  we  find  the  Greeks  of  Sicily  main 
taining  their  ground,  though  with  difficulty,  in  a  long-con 
tinued  struggle  against  the  Carthaginians,  a  power  which 
proved  almost  an  overmatch  for  Rome,  when  mistress  of  all 
Italy.  Our  author  evidently  feels  that  this  parallel  progress 
of  the  Italiot  Greeks  tells  against  his  argument  ;  and,  to 
weaken  its  force,  asserts  that  the  progress  of  the  Asiatic 
lonians  was  different  and  more  remarkable  in  three  particu 
lars  :  I.  They  established  a  confederacy  of  their  cities.  But 
the  want  of  cooperation  in  the  other  case  serves  rather  to 
increase  the  marvel.  2.  They  developed  a  civilization  more 
purely  Hellenic.  This,  however,  may  be  accounted  for  by 
the  fact,  which  probably  all  would  admit,  that  the  barbarians 


1 6  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

of  western  Asia  Minor  were  much  more  like  the  Greeks  than 
the  barbarians  of  Southern  Italy  and  Sicily  ;  so  that  the  ex 
traneous  influences  were  more  nearly  Hellenic  in  the  former 
case  than  in  the  latter.  Nor  does  this  general  similarity  of 
Carians,  Lycians,  Phrygians,  etc.,  to  the  Greeks  require  us  to 
suppose  that  they  had  been  in  previous  uninterrupted  com 
munication  with  Greeks  on  the  same  shores,  as  our  author 
assumes.  He  maintains,  in  fact,  that  the  two  sections  of  the 
Greek  people  preserved  their  essential  identity  notwithstand 
ing  a  separation  for  centuries  by  the  waters  of  the  yEgean. 
3.  The  lonians  of  Asia  made  higher  attainments  in  art  and 
literature.  True  :  but  would  the  colonists  of  Sicily  have  gone 
higher  in  these  respects,  if  on  their  first  landing  they  had  found 
the  island  half  peopled  by  their  countrymen  ?  Their  attain 
ments,  in  fact,  if  inferior  to  those  of  the  lonians,  may  compare 
with  the  attainments  of  Dorians  and  yEolians  in  Asia,  though 
these  latter,  as  Curtius  supposes,  had  the  advantage  of  settling 
among  an  old  established  population  of  their  countrymen. 

The  strong  point  of  this  theory  is  the  fact  of  its  affording 
an  explanation  for  the  peculiar  position  which  the  lonians 
appear  to  have  had  in  early  Greece.  The  argument  may  be 
stated  thus.  A  people  scattered  far  and  wide  along  the  sea- 
coast,  and  found  in  the  interior  only  where  they  might  have 
come  by  following  a  river-course  back  from  the  sea— such  a 
people  are  not  likely  to  have  reached  their  seats  by  an  over 
land  emigration.  The  lonians  in  Greece,  then,  must  have 
come  there  by  sea,  and  in  all  probability  from  the  east ;  im 
mediately  from  the  ^Egean  islands,  remotely  from  Asia 
Minor.  But  it  is  not  likely  that  a  whole  people  settled  on 
the  Asiatic  coast  would  float  over  the  sea  in  this  way.  Their 
wide  diffusion  in  Greece  makes  it  probable  that  there  were 
successive  expeditions,  with  a  considerable  interval  of  time 
from  first  to  last.  As  they  wrere  thus  established  in  large 
numbers  and  for  a  long  time  on  the  coast  of  Asia,  it  is  likely 
that  a  numerous  people  remained  there,  after  the  last  expedi 
tion  set  sail  toward  Greece  ;  enough  to  maintain  themselves 
in  that  position  until,  after  the  lapse  of  centuries,  they  wel 
comed  back  their  returning  brethren  from  the  west.  I  will 
not  stop  to  criticize  the  probabilities  in  this  argument.  But 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  I  / 

I  must  not  close  without  observing  that,  whatever  advantages 
the  theory  under  consideration  may  give  us  in  explaining  the 
early  times  of  Greece,  they  are  not  gained  without  drawback  : 
we  encumber  ourselves  with  some  new  and  serious  difficulties. 
One  of  these  has  been  already  alluded  to  ;  the  complete  for- 
getfulness  of  Greek   tradition   as   to   the   existence   of  these 
primitive   lonians  of  Asia.      If  the   tradition,   as   our   author 
holds,  has  preserved  some  memory  of  their  names  and  actions, 
it  has  at  any  rate  forgotten  that  they  were  lonians.     This  is 
the  more  strange,  as  the  national  pride  of  lonians,  living  and 
flourishing  in  the  same  seats,  might  naturally  have  clung  with 
more  tenacity  to  the  ancient  renown  of  their  ancestors.    Why 
should  they  give  up  their  own  Cecrops  and  Danaus  and  Cad 
mus  to  the  Egyptians  and  Phoenicians  ?     Why  should  they 
remember  so  much  about  their  early  neighbors,  and  nothing 
about  their  early  selves  ?      Why  should   they  remember  so 
much    about    Dardanians,    Phrygians,    Lycians,    Carians    in 
western   Asia,    and   nothing  about   lonians  there  ?     Or  why 
should  they  remember  so  much  about  lonians  in  Attica  and 
Peloponnesus,  and  nothing  about  that   people  in  their  own 
Asia  Minor  ?     Why  should  a  people  whose  forefathers,  born 
on  the  same  soil,  had  run  a  career  of  wide-reaching  activity 
and  enterprise,  forget  its  connection  with  those  forefathers, 
and  attach  itself  instead  to  the  distant  and  less  distinguished 
ancestors  of  a  part  only  of  its  members  ?     Athens,  according 
to  this  view,  was  the  daughter  of  an  Asiatic  mother.    So  long 
as  there  were  lonians  in  Asia,  the  Athenians  must  have  looked 
to  them  as  colonists  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  mother  country, 
with  feelings  of  respectful  attachment,  which  were  peculiarly 
strong  in  the  ancient  Greek  mind.      Why  then  should  Athen 
ians,  returning  to  that  mother  country,  forget  the  respect  and 
attachment  which  they  had   before   cherished  ?  why   should 
they  forget  their  original  connection  with  a  country  which 
had  now  become  their  own  home  ?     If  in  everything  else  the 
tradition  lost  its  hold  upon  these  primitive  lonians,  we  should 
expect  that  it  would  have  retained  them  in  connection  with 
the  Ionian  Migration.      How  could  it  carry  these  wanderers 
across  the  ^Egean,  without  remembering  the  capital  circum 
stance  that  they  wrent,  not  to  aliens  or  enemies,  but  to  their 


1 8  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

own  friends,  countrymen,  and  kindred  ?  There  is  a  singular 
unanimity  in  this  forgetfulness.  Among  a  large  number  of 
cities,  scattered  along  a  wide  extent  of  sea-coast,  we  might 
have  expected  that  some  one  at  least  would  remember  a  fact 
so  important  in  its  early  history.  But  there  is  no  single  ex 
ception  to  the  general  obliviousness.  It  has  a  greater  extent, 
indeed,  than  we  have  yet  noticed  ;  the  Cyclades  share  in  it. 
If  the  view  of  Curtius  be  true,  these  islands  must  have  received 
their  Greek  population  from  the  East,  from  Asia  Minor.  But 
here  again  tradition  is  no  less  distinct  and  uniform  in  referring 
the  beginnings  of  Greek  occupancy  to  colonization  from  the 
West,  from  European  Greece. 

I  will  only  notice  further  some  particulars  in  the  early 
Epic  literature  which  seem  inconsistent  with  this  theory. 
Almost  all  critics  are  agreed  now  in  referring  the  Homeric 
poems  to  a  date  earlier  than  the  year  800.  They  were  com 
posed,  then,  within  two  centuries  from  the  Ionian  Migration, 
perhaps  not  more  than  a  century  after  that  event.  If  we 
were  to  put  the  Ionian  Migration  at  about  950,  and  the  com 
position  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  at  about  850,  these  dates 
would  perhaps  correspond  as  nearly  to  the  collective  proba 
bilities  of  the  case  as  any  that  could  be  assigned.  Now  the 
remarkable  absence  of  allusions  to  Ionia,  its  places  and 
people,  in  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  which  does  not  seem  to  be 
fully  accounted  for  by  the  Achaean  subjects  and  /Eolian 
scenes  of  those  poems,  is  naturally  explained  by  the  recent 
arrival  of  the  lonians  in  that  country.  Their  beginnings  in 
Asia  were  still  matters  of  historic  recollection  ;  there  was 
still  a  conscious  newness  about  their  places  and  their  doings, 
which  interposed  a  wide  gulf  between  them  and  the  ancient 
traditions  of  Achaeans  and  Dardans.  But  the  theory  of 
Curtius  supplies  an  immemorial  past  for  the  lonians  in  Asia, 
and  thus  renders  the  phenomenon  in  question  far  more  diffi 
cult  of  explanation.  Again,  a  people  who  had  for  centuries 
followed  the  Phoenicians  in  a  career  of  maritime  enterprise, 
competing  with  them  and  in  many  places  supplanting  them 
as  traders,  must  have  become  familiar  with  the  use  of  letters  : 
and  this,  if  true,  would  render  still  more  unaccountable  the 
fact,  already  sufficiently  perplexing,  that  these  two  long 


Uiuv     ::.T7 

7CWMAT  ^f/^^f^  .  19 

K,          f      -^H!^^ 

poems,   with   their   innumerable   r~f~r~rirrT-'lii  i  HiiUnjitTiiii^  in 

the  public  and  private  life  of  the  Homeric  age,  contain  but 
one  disputed  and  doubtful  allusion  to  the  art  of  writing.  And 
once  more,  a  people  who  had  wandered  for  ages  almost 
around  the  Mediterranean  must  have  acquired  a  stock  of 
geographical  information  more  extensive  and  accurate  than 
that  represented  in  the  poems  of  Homer.  If,  for  instance, 
the  lonians  were  conversant  with  the  Delta  of  the  Nile  for 
several  centuries,  and  as  late  as  the  time  of  Shishak,  about 
950,  how  could  the  author  of  the  Odyssey  place  the  island  of 
Pharos,  which  stood  close  to  the  Egyptian  coast,  a  full  day's 
sail  away  from  it?  And  what  shall  we  say  of  the  "  speciosa 
miracula"  which  Horace  admires,  "  Antiphaten,  Scyllamque, 
et  cum  Cy elope  Charybdin?"  How  could  such  notions  pre 
vail  among  a  people  who  had  colonized  western  Sicily  and 
western  Italy  as  far  up  as  the  Tiber,  and  even  the  remoter 
island  of  Sardinia  ? 

We  are  aware  that  the  foregoing  discussion  does  very  im 
perfect  justice  to  a  theory,  the  strength  of  which,  in  its 
author's  own  view,  lies  not  in  a  few  decisive  arguments,  but 
in  the  simple,  natural  connection  which  it  gives  to  many 
scattered  facts.  We  wish,  also,  to  acknowledge,  in  the  fullest 
manner,  the  ability  and  learning  with  which  it  is  supported. 
We  admit  that  it  throws  light  upon  important  points  in 
Greek  antiquity.  We  cannot,  however,  help  feeling  that  the 
case  is  not  yet  made  out  in  its  favor,  and  that  it  would  be 
unsafe  to  accept  it,  until  further  discussion  and  the  progress 
of  knowledge  shall  have  weakened  the  objections  which  now 
present  themselves,  and  set  the  evidence  for  it  in  a  clearer 
light.  It  is  just  to  add,  that  this  theory  is  propounded  by 
its  author  with  all  becoming  modesty.  He  recognizes  the 
obscurities  and  perplexities  which  environ  his  subject,  and 
declares  that  his  object  in  publishing  his  views  is  to  determine, 
from  the  discussion  they  call  out,  how  far  he  can  himself  hold 
fast  to  them  as  established  truth.  His  views  may  be  imper 
fectly  supported  by  the  evidence ;  but  they  are  not  put 
forward  with  that  offensive  dogmatism  which  is  perhaps 
nowhere  more  common  than  in  fields  like  this,  where  hardly 
anything  whatever  can  be  known  with  certainty. 


20  IONIAN  MIGRATION. 

2.    RECENT     DISCUSSION     AND     OPINION     CONCERNING     THE 
IONIAN  MIGRATION. 

1863. 

The   dissertation  of  Curtius  on  the  Ionian    Migration   ap 
peared  in  1855.      In  1856  came  out  the  third  and    fourth  vol 
umes    of   Max  Duncker's    (Prof.    Extr.    at    Halle)     excellent 
GcscJiiclite  des  Alterthums.     The  author,  in  a  note  to  vol.  iii., 
p.  242,  alludes  to  the  new    theory,   "that  the  lonians,   prior 
to  the  Ionian  Migration,  occupied  the  coast  of  Anatolia,  and 
setting  out  from    thence,    planted  colonies  in   Greece,    from 
which  colonies  at  a  much    later  period  some  noble  families 
wandered    back   again  to  Asia  Minor.     The  only  sure  way 
(he  acids)  of  establishing  this  theory  would  be   to  show  that 
ancient  Oriental   sources  prove,  in   opposition   to  the   Greek 
tradition,  the  settlement  of  the  lonians  on  this  coast  prior  to 
B.  C.  1000.     The    proofs   which    Curtius  endeavors  to  draw 
from  the  name  of  the  lonians  on  monuments  of  Sethos  and 
Ramses  can  convince   no  one  who   is  aware  of  the  fact  that, 
among  the  names  of  nations  whom  the  Pharaohs  profess  to 
have  vanquished,  hardly  two  or  three  have  yet  been   made 
out  with  certainty.      If  the  name  Yavana  occurs   in  the  Laws 
of  Manu  and  the  Epos  of  the  Hindus,  this  circumstance  may 
probably  be  used  to  determine  the  age  of  those  works,  but  not 
that  of  the  Ionian  settlements.     The  mention  of  Javan  in  the 
lists  of  Genesis,    loth   chapter,   proves  nothing    against    the 
Greek  tradition,  as  the  composition  of  that  document  falls  into 
the  lOth  century,  into  the  times  after  Solomon.     The  theory 
in  question  is  further  contradicted  by  the  unanimous   testi 
mony  of  Greek  authorities,  Herodotus  and  Thucydides  at  the 
head,  declaring  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  ^Egean  islands,  be 
fore  the  Greeks  occupied  them,    were   Carian  or  Phoenician. 
If  the  lonians  had  come   from  Asia  Minor  to  Greece,  they 
must  have  taken  previous  possession  of  these  islands."     This 
last  argument  is  somewhat  obscurely  stated.      It  may  be  ex 
pressed  in  this  way.      According  to   Curtius,    the  lonians,  at 
an  immemorial  period,    crossed    the  yEgean    from   Asia    to 
Greece.       But  we  cannot  suppose  them   to  have  done  this 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  2 1 

without  occupying  the  y£gean  Islands  which  lay  in  their  way. 
Those  islands,  then,  must  have  been  occupied  from  an  imme 
morial  period  by  Greek  inhabitants.  But  the  universal  opi 
nion  of  the  Greeks  in  the  historical  period  was  to  the  contrary 
of  this — that  those  islands,  down  to  a  comparatively  recent 
time,  were  occupied  by  barbarians,  Carian  and  Phoenician. 

The  essay  of  Curtius  was  reviewed  in  Jahn's  Jahrbucher, 
early  in  1856,  by  J.  Classen  of  Frankfort.  The  reviewer 
adopts  in  the  main  the  views  of  his  author,  declaring  that 
"  he  cannot  escape  from  their  internal  evidence  and  their 
clearly-established  connection,"  and  avowing  his  belief  that 
"  in  them  is  found  the  key  to  one  of  the  most  difficult  enigmas 
of  ancient  history."  He  specifies  four  particulars  in  the  ar 
gument  of  Curtius  which  have  made  the  strongest  impression 
on  his  own  mind.  I.  There  are  no  traditions  which  refer  the 
lonians  of  Greece,  like  other  Greek  tribes,  to  any  primitive 
home  in  the  interior  of  the  country  ;  while  their  earliest  habi 
tations  in  scattered  localities  along  the  sea-coast  "show 
plainly  that  they  are  settlements  of  a  sea-faring  people,  who 
never  feel  themselves  at  home  except  when  they  can  breathe 
the  air  of  the  sea-coast."  2.  On  the  coast  of  Asia  Minor, 
from  the  Hermus  to  the  Maeander,  we  find  the  lonians  in  a 
compact  and  united  body,  such  as  they  show  nowhere  else  ; 
so  that,  comparing  their  position  here  with  that  which  they 
had  in  Greece,  we  cannot  doubt  that  they  were  only  colonists 
in  Greece,  but  had  their  proper  home  in  Asia.  3.  The  wide 
diffusion  of  the  Ionian  name  at  an  early  period  among  the 
nations  of  the  East  is  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  assuming 
that  this  race  was  in  closer  proximity  and  more  intimate 
intercourse  with  the  Oriental  nations  than  were  the  other 
Greek  races.  4.  This  theory  furnishes  the  only  plausible  ex 
planation  for  the  stories  of  Cecrops,  Cadmus,  and  the  rest, 
whom  we  cannot  regard  as  wholly  alien  to  the  Greeks,  but 
may  well  believe  to  have  been  men  of  Ionian  descent,  who 
came  to  Greece  from  settlements  in  the  East,  and  were  there 
fore  represented  in  the  myths  as  Egyptians,  Phoenicians,  etc. 

But,  while  he  adopts  the  theory  of  Curtius,  Classen  calls 
attention  to  some  points  in  which  his  views  are  defective  and 
unsatisfactory.  He  complains  particularly  of  the  vagueness 


22  IONIAN  MIGRATION. 

of  Curtius  in  reference  to  the  connection  between  the  Greeks 
and  their  neighbor-tribes  in  Asia  Minor,  the  Dardanians, 
Phrygians,  Lycians,  and  Carians.  Curtius  often  speaks  of 
these  as  if  he  regarded  them  as  having  a  very  close  affinity 
with  the  Greeks  in  race  and  language,  so  as  not  to  be  really 
a  foreign  population,  but  to  coalesce  readily  with  Greeks 
whenever  they  are  brought  together,  and  to  form  with  them 
a  homogeneous  union.  And  yet  he  does  not  expressly  affirm 
that  they  have  this  character  ;  and  indeed  an  affinity  so  close 
is  not  only  inconsistent  (in  appearance,  at  least)  with 
various  indications,  historical  and  philological,  but,  if  it  were 
true,  would  make  the  theory  of  Curtius  unnecessary  ;  for  the 
facts  which  he  seeks  to  explain  by  his  primitive  lonians  might 
then  be  explained  by  the  agency  of  Phrygians,  Lycians,  etc. 

In  regard  to  the  Ionian  name,  Classen  makes  an  ingenious 
suggestion,  which  has  since  been  adopted  by  a  number  of 
inquirers,  and  even  by  Curtius  himself.  May  it  not  be,  he 
says,  that  the  name  lonians  (whatever  was  its  primitive  mean 
ing)  was  not  at  the  outset  applied  to  themselves  by  the  Greek 
population  of  Asia,  but  applied  to  them  by  the  nations  of  the 
Orient,  and  used  as  a  collective  designation,  embracing  the 
sea-coast  tribes  of  Dardanians,  Maeonians,  Carians,  and  Ly 
cians  ?  May  not  this  name  have  been  carried  into  European 
Greece  by  the  Phoenicians,  who  everywhere  preceded  and 
served  as  pioneers  for  the  wanderings  of  the  Ionian  tribes  ? 
May  it  not  have  been  received  in  Greece  under  a  Grccized 
form,  and  applied  to.  the  wanderers  from  Asia  Minor  who 
settled  on  the  Greek  coasts  and  became  fused  with  the  earlier 
population  ?  And  when  the  counter  movement  began  from 
Greece  to  Asia  Minor,  may  not  the  wanderers  (or  rather,  a 
part  of  them)  have  carried  with  them  the  Ionian  name,  as  a 
domestic  designation,  which  became  established  on  the  coast 
between  that  of  ^Eolian  on  the  north  and  that  of  Dorian  on 
the  south,  the  application  being  determined  by  the  fact  that 
the  leaders  of  emigration  to  these  regions  were  Ionian,  ^Eolian, 
and  Dorian  respectively  ? 

Classen  suggests,  also,  that  the  name  Leleges  may  have 
been  used  from  a  very  early  period  by  the  Greeks  of  Asia  as 
a  general  designation  for  themselves— that  is,  for  all  who 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  2  3 


could  speak  their  language,  in  opposition  to  the 
that  is,  the  collective  tribes  whose  speech  was  unintelligible 
to  them.  This,  too,  is  a  very  ingenious  thought,  and  has 
since  been  reasserted  by  various  other  writers. 

The  views  of  Curtius  were  discussed  about  the  same  time 
by  a  more  distinguished  scholar,  G.  F.  Schomann,  of  Greifs- 
wald,  in  a  paper  entitled  Animadversiones  de  lonibus.  Scho 
mann  is  ready  to  admit  that  there  were  lonians  in  Asia  Minor 
long  before  the  Ionian  Migration.  But  he  objects  strongly 
to  the  proposition  that  the  lonians  of  Attica  were  derived 
from  these  Asiatic  lonians  by  colonies  crossing  over  to  the 
western  coasts  of  the  yEgean  and  there  establishing  them 
selves  among  a  non-Ionian  people.  He  sees  no  reason  to 
believe  that  there  ever  was  a  non-Ionian  people  in  Attica. 
And  he  sees  no  reason  for  supposing  that  the  lonians  came 
into  Greece  at  a  different  time  or  in  a  different  way  from  the 
other  Greeks.  If  the  lonians  are  found  only  on  the  sea-coast, 
the  same  may  be  said  of  their  brethren  in  Asia  ;  and  in  both 
cases  they  may  have  been  driven  down  by  the  pressure  of 
other  tribes  from  an  earlier  home  in  the  interior  to  these 
maritime  abodes.  He  goes  into  a  somewhat  lengthened  ex 
amination  of  the  legends  concerning  Ion  and  his  father 
Xuthus,  to  show  that  they  present  no  trace  of  a  colonization 
from  beyond  the  sea.  This  result,  indeed,  is  of  inferior  im 
portance,  as  he  proceeds  to  prove  that  the  legends  in  question 
are  of  no  very  high  antiquity,  but  must  have  arisen  after  the 
great  Dorian  invasion  and  the  new  relations  which  this  estab 
lished  in  Central  and  Southern  Greece.  The  derivation  of 
the  name  Ion,  from  et/u,  '  to  go,'  which  Curtius  had  spoken 
of  with  some  favor,  making  the  lonians  to  be  '  wanderers  ' 
in  name  as  well  as  in  fact,  Schomann  proves  to  be  improbable 
on  etymological  grounds.  In  regard  to  Cecrops,  Cadmus, 
and  other'  leaders  of  colonies  from  the  Oriental  world,  he 
avows  that,  if  it  be  forbidden  to  consign  them  to  the  realm  of 
fable,  he  would  rather  accept  them  for  lonians  than  for  Phoe 
nicians  and  Egyptians.  He  remarks,  however,  that  by  the 
treatment  of  Curtius  great  vagueness  is  given  to  the  designa 
tion  of  "  lonians,"  which  comes  to  be  like  that  of  Franks  in 
the  modern  Orient.  So  that  when,  in  this  theory,  a  multi- 


24  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

tude  of  things  are  ascribed  to  the  lonians— wanderings,  set 
tlements,  establishment  of  religious  worships  and  festivals, 
communications  of  the  most  various  arts  and  industries — it 
becomes  a  question  in  each  case  to  what  lonians  they  are 
attributed.  And  though  many  things  thus  ascribed  to  the 
lonians  are  not  improbable  in  themselves,  he  denies  that  they 
are  more  certain  than  what  we  believed  before,  and  holds 
that  such  conjectures  can  avail  nothing  at  all  toward  a  more 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  Ionian  race. 

To  the  objections  of  Schomann,  Curtius  replied  at  once  in 
the  Gottingcr  Gelehrte  Anzcigcn  for  1856.  I  regret  that  I 
have  been  unable  to  obtain  a  sight  both  of  this  article  and  of 
another  by  the  same  author,  which  appeared  in  1859  in  the 
same  periodical.  In  1857,  Curtius  published  the  first  volume 
of  his  elaborate  and  attractive  History  of  Greece.  He  here 
brings  out  in  a  popular  form  the  views  developed  in  his  essay, 
and  defended  in  his  reply  to  Schomann.  He  does  not,  in 
deed,  put  them  forward  as  ascertained  historic  truths,  estab 
lished  by  documentary  evidence,  and  entitled  to  unquestioning 
assent.  He  speaks  of  them  as  an  attempt  to  connect  the 
Hellenic  people  with  the  Indo-European  family  of  nations, 
and  to  make  intelligible  their  wanderings  in  the  earliest  period. 
But  he  makes  them  the  basis  of  his  whole  treatment  of  the 
primitive  Greek  history,  and  thus  gives  them  a  position  which 
no  hypothesis  should  receive  unless  it  is  pretty  clearly  re 
quired  by  the  known  facts  of  history.  His  work  being  of  a 
popular  character,  he  naturally  abstains  from  polemical  dis 
cussions.  He  does,  however,  vindicate  his  theory  from  the 
objection  that  it  is  at  variance  with  the  tradition  of  the  Greeks. 
To  this  he  replies,  first,  that  his  view  is  not  opposed  to  any 
positive  statement  of  Greek  tradition  ;  for  in  reference  to  the 
primitive  diffusion  of  the  Ionian  race  the  ancients  tell  us 
nothing  :  they  are  simply  silent  on  the  subject.  And,  second, 
if  his  view  is  not  attested  by  any  positive  statement  of  Greek 
tradition,  it  is  easy  to  assign  reasons  for  this  fact.  "The 
Greeks  were  so  proud  a  people  that  they  regarded  their  land 
as  the  central  land,  the  point  of  departure  for  the  important 
affinities  of  nations.  And  when,  in  Asia,  the  barbarians  had 
pressed  on  to  the  borders  of  the  Archipelago,  it  became,  under 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  2  5 

Athenian  influence,  a  general  feeling  that  European  Greece, 
still  free  and  independent,  was  the  proper  land  of  the  Hellenes. 
Athens  itself  was  assumed  to  be  the  metropolis  of  all  lonians. 
Under  this  influence  all  opposing  traditions  were  more  and 
more  thrust  into  the  background,  or  with  haughty  boldness 
set  aside  altogether.  Even  of  the  Carians  it  was  maintained 

o 

that  they  had  been  driven  to  Asia  from  Europe,  while,  accord 
ing  to  their  own  well-established  belief,  they  were  at  home  in 
Asia.  The  Lycians,  in  like  manner,  were  supposed  to  have 
come  from  Attica  to  Lycia.  Nay,  the  entire  connection  of 
the  Greeks  with  the  races  of  Asia  Minor  was  completely  re 
versed,  and  the  consciousness  of  an  original  affinity  of  the 
Greeks  with  the  Phrygians  and  Armenians  was  so  expressed 
that  the  Phrygians  were  represented  as  having  migrated  from 
Europe  to  Asia,  and  the  Armenians,  again,  as  having  derived 
their  origin  from  the  Phrygians." 

This  answer,  it  appears  to  me,  gives  undue  weight  to  the 
Athenian  influence,  at  least  for  the  earlier  times  of  Grecian 
history.  The  prominence  of  Athens  in  the  political  world  of 
Greece  dates  from  the  Persian  wars,  long  after  the  beginnings 
of  literary  production  and  documentary  record.  We  have  a 
multitude  of  notices,  of  a  historical  or  traditionary  character, 
which  were  composed  in  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries  before 
our  era  ;  and  some,  doubtless,  of  even  older  date.  But  in 
those  times  the  Greek  cities  of  Asia  were  independent  and 
prosperous.  Miletus  and  Ephesus  were  then  more  splendid 
and  powerful  than  Athens,  and  were  not  inferior  to  her  in 
literary  culture.  Why  should  the  Greeks  of  those  cities  sur 
render  the  honorable  consciousness  of  their  own  ancient  sub 
sistence  on  the  same  sites,  and  be  content  to  trace  the  origin 
of  their  political  being  to  a  colonization,  not  then  very  ancient, 
from  a  less  powerful  city  on  the  other  side  of  the  /Egean  ?  In 
the  literature  of  the  sixth,  seventh,  and  eighth  centuries  before 
Christ,  we  find  many  legends  in  regard  to  things  that  befell  in 
Thebes  and  Argos  and  Sparta  prior  to  the  Ionian  Migration. 
Why  do  we  find  none  such  for  Ephesus  and  Miletus,  which 
Curtius  supposes  to  have  had  a  long  history  as  Greek  cities 
prior  to  the  same  event  ?  It  is  certainly  quite  conceivable 
that  cities  should  have  existed  on  the  sites  of  Miletus  and 


26  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

Ephesus  at  the  time  when  the  colonists  from  Attica  landed  on 
the  coast  of  Asia.  But  I  see  not  how  we  could  then  account 
for  the  obliteration  of  all  legends  relating  to  earlier  personages 
and  fortunes  of  those  cities,  without  supposing  that  their  old 
population  was  viewed  as  an  alien  race,  so  that  a  wholly  new 
order  of  things,  a  wholly  new  nationality  for  these  cities,  was 
regarded  as  commencing  with  the  colonization  from  Attica. 

An  appendix  to  vol.  i.  of  Curtius's  History  contained  re 
marks  by  Lepsius  in  defence  of  his  belief  that  the  Ionian  name 
is  to  be  recognized  on  Egyptian  monuments  of  the  fifteenth 
and  fourteenth,  centuries  B.C.,  among  the  nations  described 
as  subject  to  the  great  Pharaohs  of  the  iSth  and  iQth  dynas 
ties.  There  is  no  doubt  that  such  monuments  contain  a  group 
identical  in  form  with  that  used  for  the  lonians,  or  rather  the 
Greeks,  in  the  period  of  the  Ptolemies.  But  De  Rouge  had, 
some  years  previous,  proposed  a  different  interpretation  for 
the  group  as  found  on  the  earlier  monuments.  He  noticed 
that  it  occurs  generally  in  the  first  place  among  a  list  of  given 
nations ;  and  the  ideographic  value  of  the  signs  composing 
it  appeared  to  give  the  meaning  'the  Northerners  all,'  i.  e. 
'  all  the  tribes  of  the  North  ; '  which  would  thus  be  a  general 
designation  for  the  eight  tribes  enumerated  after  it.  This 
view  appeared  to  be  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  in  some  in 
stances  the  nine  names  are  followed  by  another  series  begin 
ning  with  Kesh  (i.  c.  Cush)  and  containing  apparently  the 
names  of  southern  tribes.  It  was  supposed  further  that,  after 
the  Greeks  or  Macedonians  became  masters  of  Egypt,  the 
group  was  held  to  signify  '  the  northern  lords,'  and  applied 
as  a  flattering  designation  to  the  now  dominant  people. 

Bunsen,  in  the  last  part  of  his  Acgyptcns  Stcllc  in  dcr  Wclt- 
gcscliicJitc,  had  taken  up  this  view  of  De  Rouge's,  and  main 
tained  it  in  opposition  to  that  of  Lepsius.  In  doing  so, 
he  was  uninfluenced  by  any  prepossession  against  the  new 
Ionian  theory  ;.  for  to  this,  in  the  same  place  and  in  the  fullest 
terms,  he  signified  his  own  adhesion.  Lepsius,  in  the  appen 
dix  referred  to,  brings  forward  objections  to  the  interpretation 
of  De  Rouge  and  Bunsen,  and  reiterates  his  clear  conviction 
that  the  group  in  question  can  only  refer  to  the  Greeks  of 
the  islands  and  coasts  of  the  yEgean.  He  thinks  it  probable, 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  2J 

too,  from  the  monumental  evidence,  that  some  of  this  people 
had  formed  permanent  settlements  in  northern  Egypt,  on  the 
Delta  of  the  Nile.  The  force  of  his  arguments  can  hardly  be 
appreciated  by  any  but  professed  Egyptologists  ;  and  Curtius 
himself  admits  that,  as  matters  now  stand,  the  evidence  from 
this  source  is  not  such  as  to  demand  the  full  confidence  of 
scholars  in  general. 

Conrad  Bursian,  since  known  as  a  zealous  student  of  Greek 
geography,  published  in  1857  a  dissertation  entitled  Qitces- 
tionum  Euboicarum  Capita  Sclccta,  in  which  he  came  for 
ward  as  an  adherent  of  the  Ionian  theory  ;  and  not  long 
afterwards,  reviewing  Duncker's  History  in  Jahn's  JaJirbiicJicr, 
he  censured  that  writer  for  his  skepticism  in  reference  to  it. 
To  the  objection  of  Duncker,  already  noticed — that  if  the 
lonians  at  an  immemorial  period  had  crossed  the  yEgean 
from  Asia  to  Greece,  they  would  at  the  same  time  have  oc 
cupied  the  islands  on  their  way,  whereas  Greek  tradition 
represents  these  islands  as  occupied  down  to  a  much  later 
period  by  Phoenicians  and  Carians — he  replies,  that  the  lonians 
passed  by  these  islands  without  taking  possession,  for  the 
very  reason  that  they  found  them  already  held  by  the  Phoe 
nicians.  This  answer  is  hardly  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  theory,  which  makes  a  previous  Phoenician  oc 
cupancy  to  be  everywhere  the  condition  and  occasion  of 
Ionian  settlement ;  and  in  fact,  Curtius,  in  a  subsequent 
article  (which  we  shall  notice  further  on),  gives  a  different 
reply.  The  latter  asserts,  first,  that  the  barbarians  might  be 
supposed,  without  improbability,  to  have  thrust  themselves 
into  these  islands  after  they  had  been  settled  by  the  lonians  ; 
second,  that  there  is  good  reason  for  believing  that  these 
islands,  long  prior  to  the  Ionian  Migration,  were  not  wholly 
in  barbarian  possession,  but  were  occupied,  at  least  in  part, 
by  a  Greek  population  ;  and  third,  that  the  Carians  them 
selves  were  closely  akin  to  the  Greeks,  and  perhaps  origi 
nally  spoke  Greek,  but  were  afterwards  barbarized — Semitized 
— by  communication  with  the  Phoenicians. 

The  Ionian  theory  was  further  discussed,  in  1857,  by^Alfred 
von  Gutschmid,  in  his  Beitragc  zur  Gcschiclite  dcs  alttn 
Orients.  This  work  was  an  extended  and  far  from  favorable 


2  8  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

critique  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  volumes  of  Bunsen's  Egypt. 
But,  as  Bunsen  in  his  closing  volume  had  taken  up  the  Ionian 
theory,  Gutschmid  also  was  naturally  led  to  take  notice  of  it. 
His  remarks  are  very  interesting,  though  not  free  from  a 
tone  of  dogmatism,  and  an  asperity  towards  those  from  whom 
he  differs,  which  appear  too  often  in  the  writings  of  this 
learned  and  able  scholar.  He  denies,  as  my  own  article  had 
already  done,  that  the  great  and  rapid  progress  in  wealth, 
power,  and  literary  culture,  made  by  the  Ionian  cities  .of  Asia 
Minor  after  the  colonization  from  Athens,  is  any  proof  that 
those  colonies  were  not  planted  among  an  alien  people.  He 
brings  forward  many  examples  to  show  that  such  a  progress, 
surpassing  that  of  the  mother  country  in  the  same  time,  is  a 
frequent  phenomenon  in  the  history  of  colonization.  He 
refers  especially  to  North  America,  and  the  uncommonly 
rapid  increase  of  population  and  the  growth  of  ne\v  states 
which  have  been  witnessed  here.  To  the  great  argument  of 
Curtius,  founded  on  the  position  of  the  lonians  in  Greece,  he 
replies  as  follows  : 

"  The  assertion  that  the  lonians  in  Greece  nowhere  appear 
in  a  compact  mass  is  of  a  subjective  nature.  On  both  sides 
of  the  Isthmus,  we  find  them  in  connected  seats  :  in  the  South 
they  form  the  population  of  all  Achaia  and  the  northern 
coast  of  Argolis  ;  in  the  North  they  have  Attica,  Southern 
Bceotia  and  the  neighboring  parts  of  Phocis,  and  Euboea. 
What  is  most  important — in  this  region,  beside  the  towns  on 
the  coast,  those  of  the  interior  also  are  Ionic,  which  is  not 
the  case  in  Asiatic  Ionia.  The  fact  which  Curtius  notices  (p. 
4),  that  just  here  no  trace  is  found  of  migrations  made  by 
the  lonians  from  one  habitation  to  another,  might  be  regard 
ed  as  an  indication  of  their  primitive  settlement  in  this  region. 
But  if  these  seats  appear  to  any  one  insufficient  to  be  the  home 
of  so  great  a  race,  let  him  hold  to  the  statement  of  Hero 
dotus — a  statement  oftener  evaded  than  really  refuted — that 
the  lonians  were  originally  Pelasgians.  Curtius  himself  has 
taken  a  step  in  this  direction,  by  claiming  for  his  lonians  the 
names  Argos  and  Larissa,  which  have  been  universally  re 
garded  as  Pelasgian.  True,  he  conceives  the  relation  between 
the  lonians  and  Pelasgians  to  be  this,  that  the  former  came 


IONIAN  MIGRATION. 


29 


by  sea  in  single  parties,  that  they  connected  themselves  with 
the  native  inhabitants,  and  especially  the  Pelasgians,  and  be 
came  gradually  so  lost  in  the  general  mass  as  to  be  no  longer 
distinguishable  from  it.  Still,  there  is  nothing  to  forbid  our 
regarding  the  lonians  as  a  name  which  at  a  more  recent 
period  separated  itself  from  the  Pelasgian.  To  show  how  far 
Curtius  is  warranted  in  his  hypothesis  concerning  the  home 
of  the  lonians,  I  will  bring  forward  an  analogy  from  a  time 
of  authentic  history,  in  which  we  have  the  advantage  of  docu 
mentary  data.  I  refer  to  the  Malays,  who,  as  a  people  of 
coasts  and  islands,  arc  well  adapted  to  the  comparison,  and 
who  have,  in  common  with  the  lonians,  not  only  a  decided 
capacity  for  the  sea,  and  a  free  restless  nature,  but  also  the 
fact  that  in  the  diffusion  of  Islam  they  have  been  the  carriers 
of  culture  in  the  Indian  Archipelago,  just  as  the  lonians  were, 
according  to  Curtius,  in  the  Greek  Archipelago,  by  transport 
ing  the  ancient  civilization  of  the  East.  The  Malays — the  name 
is  said  to  mean  the  same  thing  as  that  of  the  Parthians,  viz. 
fjueravda-rat,^  '  emigrants ' — are  spread  over  all  the  Indian  islands, 
but  only  the  smaller  belong  wholly  to  them  ;  the  larger  are 
occupied  in  their  interior  by  primitive  inhabitants,  who  are 
of  the  Ethiopian  race.  Whence  the  Malays  came,  nobody 
can  say  ;  it  appears  inconceivable  that  one  of  the  islands 
should  have  been  their  home.  On  the  continent  there  is  but 
one  land  where  the  Malays  are  found  in  large  masses,  the 
peninsula  of  Malacca,  which  has  its  name  from  them,  as  Ionia 
has  from  the  lonians.  Nowhere  do  the  Malays  form  states  to 
the  same  extent  as  here  (precisely  what  Curtius  insists  on  in 
reference  to  the  Asiatic  lonians).  For  here  was  the  seat  of 
the  most  powerful  Malay  kingdom,  that  of  Singhapura,  Ma 
lacca,  and  Gohor  ;  here  are  still  found  numerous  Malay  states, 
while,  e.g.  in  Java,  the  most  important  of  the  Indian  islands, 
the  older  states  were  founded  by  Brahman  wanderers  from 
Further  India,  and  that  of  Bantam  by  Arab  Sayyids.  If 
now  we  should  apply  the  argument  of  Curtius  to  this  case, 
we  must  infer  that  Malacca  was  the  primitive  seat  of  the  Ma 
lays,  and  that  from  thence  they  occupied  the  coasts  of  the 
islands.  But  history  teaches  us  that  in  the  year  1160  A.D., 
the  Malays,  under  their  king  Qri  Tribhuvana,  first  passed 


30  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

over  from  Sumatra  to  the  mainland,  and  founded  Singhapura  ; 
that  in  1253,  under  their  fifth  king,  Qri  Skandar,  they  founded 
Malacca  ;  that  in  1511,  under  their  twelfth  king,  Sultan  Mah- 
mud  Shah,  they  founded  Gohor :  while  we  have  similar 
exact  dates  for  the  successive  diffusion  of  the  Malays  on  the 
peninsula.  This  example  may  teach  us  the  necessity  for 
caution,  in  cases  where  we  have  no  authentic  history  to  de 
pend  upon." 

In  his  celebrated  essay  on  the  Book  of  Nabatha^an  Agricul 
ture  (ZtscJift.  d.  dcntscJicn  •uwrgcnl.  Gcs.  vol.  xv.,  1861),  Gut- 
schmid  again  found  occasion  to  speak  of  the  Ionian  theory, 
which  Chwolson  had  laid  hold  of  to  account  for  the  amazing 
fact  that  a  Babylonian  author,  twenty-five  centuries  before 
Christ,  should  combat  the  botanical  opinions  of  Greek  or 
Ionian  writers.  He  docs  not  here  enter  upon  any  formal  dis 
cussion  of  the  theory.  He  only  says  :  "  Chwolson,  as  was  to 
be  expected,  tries  to  make  out  of  the  universal  lonians  a 
little  capital  for  his  client  Out'ami ;  "  and  then,  after  quoting 
a  passage  in  which  Chwolson  thanks  heaven  *  that  the  old 
naive  chronology  of  primary  schools,  with  its  dates  of  1697  for 
Phoroneus,  1377- for  Deucalion,  etc.,  has  passed  away  forever," 
he  adds  :  "The  fact  is  just  the  other  way,  that  the  Asiatic  and 
Egyptian  wanderers  Pelops,  Danaus,  Cecrops,  Peteos,  Erec- 
theus,  whom  one  had  thought  to  have  passed  away  forever, 
have  been  dragged  by  Curtius  out  of  the  rubbish-hole,  and 
turned  to  profitable  account  as  Orientalized  lonians  or  Ionized 
Orientals.  The  lofty  air  with  which  the  author  of  the  hypo 
thesis  warns  off  objectors,  preferring  this  course  to  an  at 
tempt  at  refuting  their  objections,  and  the  eagerness  with 
which  enthusiastic  philologs  in  Jahn's  Jahrb'dckcr  claim  the 
admiration  of  their  readers  for  E.  Curtius's  studies  on  the  older 
Greek  history,  may  certainly  lead  outsiders  to  suppose  that 
they  have  here  a  made-out  fact,  to  which  only  personal  enmity 
refuses  its  due  acknowledgment.  But  in  truth,  the  very  per 
sons  who  are  most  competent  to  judge.,  historians  and  geo 
graphers  (I  mention  only  Dunckcr,  in  his  Greek  History, 
and  Kiepert,  in  his  Researches  on  the  Genealogical  List  of 
Nations  in  Genesis),  have  declared  themselves  very  decidedly 
against  the  Ionian  hypothesis,  and  this  is  pretty  generally  re- 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  3 1 

garded  as  a  thing  gone  by.  In  reference  to  every  hypothesis, 
the  first  question  must  be,  not  '  is  it  good/  but  '  is  it  neces 
sary  ?'' is  it  on  the  whole  the  most  satisfactory  solution  of 
existing  difficulties  ?  '  He  then  maintains  that  the  only 
positive  fact  alleged  in  support  of  the  theory  (if  fact  it  be)— 
the  appearance  of  the  Ionian  name  on  the  early  Egyptian 
monuments — is  not  really  explained  by  it,  the  occurrence  of 
lonians  in  Egypt  at  that  remote  period  being  about  equally 
marvellous  whether  you  suppose  them  to  have  come  there 
from  the  eastern  or  the  western  shores  of  the  ^Egean. 

Among  "  the  enthusiastic  philologs  of  Jahn's  Jahrbucher" 
Gutschmid  must  have  included  August  Baumeister,  who  in  1860 
reviewed  the  Greek  History  of  E.  Curtius,  and  spoke  particularly 
of  the  Ionian  theory  in  the  warmest  terms  of  commendation. 

The  same  question  was  treated,  with  greater  thoroughness, 
in  another  work  which  appeared  in  1860 — a  gymnasial  pro 
gram  by  H.  DonclorfF,  entitled  the  lonians  in  Eubcea. 
Dondorff  agrees  with  Curtius  in  recognizing  the  existence  of 
lonians  (so  called)  in  Asia,  and  their  wide-spread  activity  as 
a  seafaring  people  long  prior  to  the  Ionian  Migration.  But 
he  does  not  therefore  accept  the  theory  of  Curtius,  against 
which  he  acknowledges  the  force  of  the  objections  raised  by 
Duncker  and  Gutschmid.  He  holds  that  the  early  lonians 
of  Asia  and  the  yEgean  were  not  the  same  people  as  the 
lonians  of  Attica  :  the  latter  were  a  Hellenic  tribe,  while  the 
former,  he  thinks,  were  wholly  or  mainly  Semitic  barbarians, 
including  Carians,  Cypriots,  and  even  Philistines.  The  con 
nection  between  these  and  the  lonians  of  Greece  is  nothing 
but  a  coincidence  in  name. 

This  description  of  DondorfFs  views  I  give,  having  never 
seen  his  dissertation,  on  the  faith  of  Curtius  himself,  who  re 
viewed  it  in  Jahn's  Jahrbucher  for  1861.  The  review,  as  might 
be  expected,  is  mainly  occupied  with  a  vindication  of  the  Ionian 
theory  against  the  objections  of  dissenting  critics.  It  is  evi 
dently  prompted  in  part  by  the  sarcastic  remarks  of  Gut 
schmid  in  the  essay  on  the  Nabathaean  Agriculture,  although 
that  essay  is  nowhere  mentioned.  Curtius  refers  to  his  own 
former  articles  as  proof  that  he  has  not  shunned  a  discussion 
of  the  subject  :  he  may  have  refused  the  challenge  of  an  over- 


3  2  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

bearing  and  contemptuous  polemic,  but  he  has  been  always 
ready  to  meet  candid  and  courteous  opposition.  He  takes 
pains  to  show  that  his  views  have  not  failed  to  commend  them 
selves  to  a  number  of  well  qualified  judges.  "  Leonhard 
Schmitz,"  he  says,  "  even  before  the  appearance  of  my  His 
tory,  had  made  this  view  the  basis  of  his  own.  I  find  my 
own  view  again  fully  set  forth  in  Lorenz  Diefenbach,  Orig. 
Eiirop.,  p.  78,  and  if  he  has  come  to  it  independently  (for  he 
makes  no  mention  of  me),  this  is  only  the  more  welcome 
guaranty  for  the  truth  of  my  hypothesis.  W.  Vischer,  in  his 
Er  inner  nngcn  aits  Griechenland,  p.  301,  agrees  with  me  en 
tirely  as  to  the  Ionizing  of  Argos  ;  and  more  recently,  in  the 
Schweizerisches  Museum,  he  expresses  only  a  wish  that  the 
inferences  drawn  from  the  hypothesis  might  be  kept  within 
narrower  limits." 

It  is   evident  from  this  article  of  Curtius  that  three  argu 
ments  which,  as  we  have  already  seen,  were  used  in  the  essay 
of  1855  to  support  his  theory,  are  now  no  longer  relied  on  for 
that  purpose.      These  are  :    I.  the  wide  diffusion  of  the  Ionian 
name  throughout  the  East  as  a  designation  for  the  Greeks  ; 
2.  the  mention  of  lonians  on  the  old  Egyptian  monuments  of 
the  fifteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries  ;   and  3.  the  rapid  pro 
gress  of  the   cities   which  the   colonists  from   Attica,   in  the 
so-called  Ionian  Migration,  were  said  to  have  planted  on  the 
coast    of  Asia    Minor.       These    arguments,    which    were    all 
objected  to  as  unreliable  in   my  previous  communication  on 
this  subject,  are  now  practically  abandoned  :   it  may  be  said 
that  they  are  withdrawn,  and  no  longer  form  part  of  the  case. 
Curtius  now  rests  his  cause   mainly  on  two  points.     These 
are:    i.  the  position  of  the  lonians  in  Greece,  confined  from 
the  earliest   time  to  certain   scattered  localities  on  the   sea- 
coast  :   this  he  still  maintains  against  the  opposition  of  Scho- 
mann  and   Gutschmicl ;  2.  the  traditions  in  reference  to  the 
colonists  from  Attica  in  the  Ionian  Migration  :   these   he  ex 
amines  in  some  detail,  to  show  that  they  imply  a  close  affinity 
between  the  new-comers  in  Asia  and  the  previous  inhabitants 
of  the  places  where  they  settled.    In  this  examination,  I  must 
think  that  he  relies  too  much  on  the  fullness  and  authenticity 
of  the  traditional  accounts,  and  thus  draws  from  them  con 
clusions  which  have  no  sufficient  vouchers. 


IONIAN  MIGRA  TION.  3  3 

As  to  the  first  point,  which  I  have  always  regarded  as  the 
stronghold  of  the  Ionian  theory,  its  strength,  it  seems  to  me, 
is  in  a  measure  compromised  by  the  new  views  which  our 
author  has  taken  up  in  reference  to  the  Ionian  name.  I 
translate  the  highly  interesting  paragraph  which  relates  to  this 
subject.  "  As  regards  the  history  of  the  name  lonians,  I  am 
quite  ready,"  he  says,  "  to  adopt  the  same  points  of  view  as 
Dondorff,  and  to  recognize  in  it  a  collective  name,  which 
gradually  came  to  be  restricted,  and  to  assume  a  more  definite 
application.  That  view  was  proposed  by  Classen,  and  de 
fended  with  much  penetration  in  this  Journal,  as  far  back  as 
1856,  and  I  have  never  ventured  to  maintain  an  opposite 
position.  According  to  this  view,  we  should  have  to  assume 
some  three  principal  epochs  in  the  history  of  the  name  :  I . 
the  name  Yavanim,  as  diffused  among  Aryans  and  Semites 
through  the  whole  Eastern  world,  embraces  all  the  seafaring 
tribes  of  the  yEgean  except  the  Phoenicians,  including  both 
pure  Greeks  and  various  tribes  of  mixed  origin,  Carians, 
Citians,  Philistines,  etc.  It  is  a  name  which  may  correspond 
somewhat  to  that  of  the  Leleges,  an  aggregate  name,  which 
does  not,  any  more  than  that  of  Franks  in  the  modern  East, 
designate  a  whole  connected  by  community  of  language,  a 
definite  etJinos.  This  name,  first  brought  by  the  Phoenicians 
to  the  European  Greeks,  was  adopted  by  the  latter  to  desig 
nate  their  kinsmen  wTho  were  gradually  settling  on  their  sea- 
coast,  whom  they  became  acquainted  with  first  as  intermixed 
with  Phoenicians,  and  afterwards  in  their  purer  nationality. 
Thus,  2.  the  foreign  name  Yavanim,  adapted  to  the  Greek 
mouth  as  'lao^e?  or  "IWe?,  became  established  on  the  soil  of 
Europe,  and  especially  in  Attica  and  ^Egialeia.  Here  Ionian 
history  first  develops  itself.  Here,  therefore,  the  name  also 
first  obtain^  a  historical  significance,  which  causes  the  prior 
existence  of  the  people,  their  transmarine  origin,  to  be  wholly 
forgotten.  Then  follows  the  Trepan  a  is  rwv  'Icovcov  et?  'Aalav 
(the  Ionian  Migration).  And  now,  3.  the  name  fixes  itself 
in  Asia  Minor,  where  the  Carians,  barbarized  kinsmen  of  the 
Greeks,  are  overcome,  the  nobler  germs  existing  among  the 
Greeks  who  had  remained  in  their  primitive  home  on  the 
Asiatic  coasts  are  roused  to  new  life,  and  a  city-culture  estab- 
3 


34  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

lished,  which,  under  influences  from  the  Asiatics  of  the  in 
terior,  soon  takes  such  a  direction  that  the  Athenians  dis 
claimed  the  very  name  of  lonians." 

Curtius  is  careful  to  mark  these  views  as  relating  only  to 
the  name  "  Ionian  :  "  yet  it  is  plain  that  they  are  of  no  little 
importance  with  reference  to  his  whole  theory.      On  the  one 
hand,  they  appear  to  weaken   in  some   measure  the  founda 
tions  on   which  it   rests.      Evidently  they  destroy  whatever 
residue  of  weight  any  one  might  recognize  in  the  diffusion  of 
the  Ionian  name  through  the  Eastern  world,  and  in  the  sup 
posed  mention  of  lonians  on  the  ancient  Egyptian  monuments. 
But  further  than  this  :   if  it  is  admitted  that  the  Ionian  Greeks 
received  that  name  in  Greece  itself,  having  previously  been 
otherwise  designated,  then  the  confinement  of  that  name  to 
certain  limited  localities  becomes  a  matter  of  less  consequence, 
for  it  does  not  necessarily  imply  that  the  race  was  confined  to 
the  same  localities  :   it  is  quite  conceivable  that  the  race  itself 
may  have  had  a  much  wider  extension   in   Greece,  and  that 
only  a  particular  part,  which  in  some  way  came  to  be  distin 
guished  from  the  rest,  received  the  name  of  lonians.     Yet, 
on   the   other  hand,   these  new  views  give  some  aid  to  the 
theory.      They  help  to  account  for  the  fact  that  no  traditions 
represent  the  lonians  in  Greece  as  having  come  there  cither 
from  the  opposite   coast   of  Asia  or  from  the  islands  of  the 
^Egean.     They  also  help  to  account  for  the  fact  that  no  tra 
ditions  represent  the  Ionian  emigrants  from  Attica  to  Asia  as 
having  settled  there  among  a  population  whom  they  regarded 
as  kinsmen  and  brethren.      This  last  point  I  have  alluded  to 
before,  and  it  is  one  which  I  look  upon  as  of  great  conse 
quence.      It  is  not  at  all  improbable  that  the  Attic  settlers  in 
Ephesus   and   Miletus    may   have    found   in   those   regions   a 
population   not  widely  diverse  from  themselves  in  language 
and  ethnical  affinities.      But  there  is  no  convincing  reason  to 
believe — there  is  much  reason  for  declining  to  believe — that 
they  found  a  population  which  they  recognized  as  having  the 
same  nationality  with  themselves,  as  standing  in   a  relation 
to  themselves  similar  to  that  of  the  Achaeans,   Dorians,   or 
^Eolians.     There  is  no  reason  for  supposing  that  the  earlier 
inhabitants  of  the  land  were  any  nearer  to  the  Greeks  in  origin 


IONIAN    MIGRATION.  35 

and  language  than  were  the  Pelasgians.  Curtius,  in  his  His 
tory,  describes  the  Pelasgians  as  an  earlier  wave  of  population 
which  streamed  over  from  Asia  to  Europe,  just  in  advance 
of  that  which  brought  the  Hellenes  to  their  Grecian  home. 
He  describes  them  as  distinct  from  the  Greeks,  yet  closely 
resembling  them,  and  readily  coalescing  with  them.  That  a 
population  of  this  kind,  whether  called  Pelasgic  or  designated 
by  other  names — a  population  standing  in  this  sort  of  relation 
to  the  Greeks — may  have  existed  in  Asia  Minor  long  before 
the  Ionian  Migration,  is  certainly  not  improbable.  That  the 
Lycians  and  Phrygians  stood  thus  near  to  the  Greeks,  I  can 
not  believe.  The  language  of  the  Lycian  monuments  is  so 
far  from  resembling  the  Greek  that  some  have  doubted 
whether  it  was  even  Indo-European.  As  for  the  Phrygians, 
we  have  in  Homer  the  proper  names  of  Dardanians  or  Tro 
jans,  a  people  of  the  Phrygian  stock.  George  Curtius  has 
shown  that  many  of  these  names  imply  a  language  different 
from  the  Greek.  In  regard  to  the  Carians,  though  the 
Semitic  origin  often  asserted  for  them  is  not  sufficiently 
proved,  we  yet  see,  from  the  Homeric  epithet,  fBapfBapofy&vot, 
applied  to  them,  that  their  language  was  unintelligible  to  the 
Greek  ear.  But  we  hear  of  Pelasgians  in  Asia  Minor,  and 
yet  more  of  Leleges,  whom  we  may  believe  to  have  stood  in 
a  near  relation  to  the  Greeks.  While,  therefore,  we  hold  it 
improbable  that  the  colonists  of  the  Ionian  Migration  found 
on  the  Asiatic  coast  any  people  whom  they  felt  to  be  so  near 
them  as  the  lonians  or  even  the  Dorians  and  ^Eolians  of  their 
own  land,  we  think  it  not  indeed  a  historic  certainty,  but  by 
no  means  improbable,  that  they  found  populations  who 
seemed  as  near  to  them  as  the  Pelasgians  in  Europe.  And 
we  think  it  still  less  a  historic  certainty,  yet  also  not  improba 
ble,  that  these  populations  of  the  Asiatic  coast  may  in  earlier 
centuries  have  had  communication  with  the  western  shores 
of  the  ^Egean,  and  that  the  development  of  the  Ionian 
character  and  name  in  Greece  may  be  somehow  connected 
with  such  communications.  So  much  as  this  we  should, 
according  to  our  present  lights,  consider  to  be  the  net  result 
of  the  discussions  which  have  been  set  on  foot  by  the  disser 
tation  of  E.  Curtius.  But  it  seems  highly  important  that 


36  IONIAN  MIGRA  TION. 

these  conclusions  should  not  be  invested  with  more  of  cer 
tainty  than  properly  belongs  to  them — that  they  should  be 
recognized  as  historic  speculations  rather  than  historic  verities, 
as  probabilities  or  possibilities  rather  than  facts. 

Curtius  insists  that  we  must  have  some  theory  which  shall 
enable  us  to  comprehend  the  facts  that  lie  on  the  threshold 
of  Hellenic  history.  Such  a  theory  he  has  labored  to  con 
struct,  and  he  claims  the  right  to  maintain  it  until  a  better 
one  is  offered  him.  It  is  unquestionably  right  that  he  should 
show  his  theory  to  be  superior  to  any  other  which  has  been 
proposed  :  but  it  is  quite  conceivable  that  he  should  succeed 
in  this  without  thereby  proving  it  to  be  true.  There  are 
many  problems  in  history,  and  especially  in  ancient  history, 
of  which  the  solution  is  more  to  be  desired  than  looked  for ; 
many  in  which  the  deficiency  or  uncertainty  of  the  data  is 
such  as  almost  to  preclude  the  hope  of  a  satisfactory  solution. 
It  may  be  that  the  problem  which  Curtius  has  discussed  with 
so  much  ingenuity  and  learning,  and  with  no  less  candor  and 
courtesy,  will  have  to  be  ranked  in  this  category. 


II. 

THE   ROOT  PRACH  IN  THE  GREEK  LANGUAGE. 

1855- 

THE  Sanskrit  language  has  a  root  prach,  in  very  common 
use,  signifying  '  to  ask  a  question.'  This  radical  appears  to 
have  been  preserved  in  all  the  great  subdivisions  of  the  Indo- 
European  class.  We  find  it  in  the  Gothic  frah,  '  he  asked/ 
A.  S.  fregnan,  modern  German  fragen.  Bopp,  in  his  San 
skrit  Glossary  s.  v.,  gives  a  Lithuanian  praszau,  'rogo,  pre 
cor,'  and  perszu,  '  procus  sum,  uxorem  mihi  deposco  : '  a 
Russian/r^'^,  '  rogo,  precor  : '  an  \ris\ifiafrach, '  inquisitive,' 
which  Bopp  explains  by  a  supposed  reduplication — which, 
however,  is  more  probably  to  be  explained  as  a  compound 
of  the  root  with  the  old  preposition  fia,  '  before  :  '  so  '  fia- 
fraighe,  '  question,'  fiafruighim,  'I  inquire,  ask.'  In  Latin 
we  find  the  verb  precor,  '  to  pray,'  and  the  noun  procus,  '  a 
suitor,'  both  certain  derivatives  of  this  root.  Bopp  also  refers 
to  it  the  verb  posco,  as  if  for  prosco,  supposing  that  r  is  omitted, 
as  in  the  Greek  preposition  TTOTI  for  Trpori.  irpori  or  777)09  is 
a  derivative  from  Trpo  :  its  p  therefore  is  original,  and  the  form 
TTOTL  is  a  corruption,  as  also  the  corresponding  Latin  form  pot } 
which  never  indeed  occurs  as  a  separate  word,  but  appears  as 
a  prefix  in  possideo  (=pot  +  sedeo),  porrigo  (=pot  +  rego),  and 
other  compounds.  Bopp  further  adds  the  Latin  rogo,  as  if  for 
progo,  and  the  comparison  is  certainly  plausible  ;  but  I  am 
not  able  to  produce  any  fully  satisfactory  analogy  for  this 
assumed  loss  of  the  initial/  before  a  following  r. 

As  to  the  Sanskrit  prach  itself,  Pott  has  explained  it  as  a 
compound,  made  up  of  the  prefix  pra,  l  before,'  and  the  root 
ichy  '  to  desire,'  which  appears  only  in  the  special  tenses  (cor 
responding  to  the  Greek  present  and  imperfect  in  the  different 
modes).  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  this  compound  of  pra  and 
mich  does  really  occur  in  Greek,  with  a  distinctness  which  ex- 


33  ROOT  PR  A  CH  IN  GREEK. 

eludes  all  doubt  as  to  its  nature  and  origin.  The  Sanskrit/;'^ 
is  the  Greek  TT/QO,  and  the  Greek  equivalent  of  ich  would  natu 
rally  be  IK,  as  the  Sanskrit  palatals  are  for  the  most  part  de 
generate  gutturals.  Hence  pra  +  ick^TrpoiK,  which  we  find 
already  in  the  Homeric  Trpo'l/CTr]?,  '  a  beggar.'  See  Odyssey 
xvii.  352,  where  Ulysses,  appearing  at  the  banquet  of  the 
suitors  in  the  garb  of  a  beggar,  is  thus  addressed  by  the 
swineherd  Eumaeus,  who  brings  him  bread  and  meat  from 
Telemachus  :  — 


TOL,  %  elve,  Mot  raSe,  real  ere 
alri^eiv  iJid\a  irdvra^  e 


The  corresponding  verb  Trpotcro-oyLtat,  fut.  7rpoL%ofjiai7  '  to  beg/ 
is  found  in  Archilochus,  and  in  the  compound  KaTaTrpoiaaofjiai 
occurs  with  considerable  frequency.  We  have  likewise  the 
noun  Trpoij;,  Attic  Trpoli;,  '  a  free  gift,  gratuity  '  (literally,  '  ob 
tained  by  begging,  had  for  the  asking  '),  the  genitive  of  which, 
Trpoiitos,  and  the  accusative,  TrpoiKa,  are  used  very  commonly 
to  signify  '  as  a  free  gift,  gratis.' 

Now  the  Sanskrit  pracJi  is  not  by  any  means  so  clearly  the 
compound  of  pra  and  ich  as  is  the  Greek  Trpo'l'K.  According 
to  the  constant  law  of  Sanskrit  euphony,  pra  +  ich  ought  to 
give  us  prccJi  and"  not  pracJi.  There  is  therefore  room  to 
doubt  whether  the  term  prach  is  really  a  compound.  At  all 
events,  if  it  be  so,  it  has  undergone  such  change  as  to  assume 
the  appearance  of  a  simple  root  —  it  has  completely  lost  the 
consciousness  of  its  composition,  has  passed  as  an  uncom- 
pounded  radical  through  the  whole  class  of  Indo-European 
languages,  and  has  received  thus  an  extension  far  wider  than 
the  simple  ich,  from  which  it  is  perhaps  derived.  We  have 
seen  it  already  in  the  Latin,  the  Slavonic,  the  Lithuanian,  the 
Teutonic,  and  the  Celtic  languages.  Does  it  occur  also  in 
Greek  ?  Does  this  language  furnish  us,  besides  the  distinct 
compound  of  pra  with  ich,  which  we  have  been  considering, 
with  any  representative  for  the  more  common  and  extensive 
prach,  which  is  perhaps  only  the  result  of  their  fusion  ?  My 
belief  is  that  it  does  so,  in  the  noun  OeoTrpo-n-os.  This  word 


ROOT  PRA CH  IN  GREEK.  39 

occurs  frequently  in  Homer,  and  signifies  '  one  who  prophe 
sies,  a  diviner  or  soothsayer.'  In  Herodotus  we  find  a  different 
meaning,  that  of  '  a  public  envoy  sent  to  consult  an  oracle.' 
We  might  give  examples  of  the  word  in  both  these  uses  ;  but 
this  is  not  necessary.  I  suppose  it  to  be  a  compound  of  #eo<? 
with  the  root  praclt,  and  to  signify,  according  to  its  etymol 
ogy,  '  one  who  asks  a  god  or  the  gods.' 

This  derivation  explains  perfectly  the  two  meanings  which 
we  have  just  mentioned  as  belonging  to  the  word.  The  pro 
phet  who  pre-announces  the  events  of  the  future  does  so,  not 
of  himself,  not  from  his  own  stores  of  knowledge,  but  from  in 
formation  which  he  seeks  and  obtains  of  a  divinity — -he  pro 
fesses  himself  and  is  understood  by  others  to  be  '  a  questioner 
of  the  gods.'  And  the  propriety  of  the  term  is  no  less  clear 
in  its  application  to  the  public  envoy  sent  to  consult  an 
oracle  :  it  is  his  office  '  to  interrogate  the  god.' 

This  derivation  is  equally  satisfactory  as  regards  the  form 
of  the  word.  The  Sanskrit  palatals,  as  already  intimated, 
correspond  generally  to  gutturals  in  the  cognate  languages, 
and  the  interchange  of  gutturals  and  labials  is  one  of  the  most 
familiar  phonetic  phenomena.  No  one  could  hesitate  about 
accepting  the  Latin  procus  as  a  derivative  of  the  Sanskrit 
pracli,  and  there  is  as  little  difficulty  in  admitting  a  Greek  TT^OTTO? 
as  the  equivalent  of  the  Latin  procus.  A  case  exactly  analo 
gous  may  be  found  in  the  Sanskrit  vac,  '  to  speak  :  '  from 
which  root  we  have  the  Latin  vox,  vocis,  vocare,  and  the 
Greek  cnjr,  OTTO?  (originally  FOTTS.  POTTOS,  compare  7^77-09, 
Fenreiv).  The  compound  name  Ka\\io7rr),  '  beautifully  speak 
ing,'  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  Latin  vox  and  Sanskrit 
vac,  that  $eo7rpo7ro?,  according  to  our  view,  bears  to  the  Latin 
procus  and  the  Sanskrit prac/i. 

Let  it  not  be  thought  strange  that  in  Trpotfcr^,  l  a  beggar,' 
the  Greek  should  retain  the  primitive  K,  and  yet  in  7773077-0?, 
*  an  asker,'  coming  perhaps  from  the  same  ultimate  theme, 
should  change  it  to  the  labial  TT.  The  language  vacillates  be 
tween  these  sounds  in  one  and  the  same  word,  as  in  the  Ionic 
/coto9,  #60-09,  /core,  /ecu?,  etc.,  which  present  the  primitive  gut 
tural,  while  the  common  Greek  has  7roto9,  7700-09,  Trore,  7ro>9, 
etc.,  with  the  labial.  So  in  the  root  which  signifies  '  to  see,' 


40  ROOT  PR  A  CH  IN  GREEK. 

Sanskrit  iksh,  perhaps  originally  aksh,  from  which  come 
aksha  and  akshi,  '  eye/  Latin  dim.  oculus,  ocellus.  In  Greek 
the  corresponding  radical  is  OTT,  found  in  cnfro/zai,  '  I  shall  see/ 
OTrwTra,  '  I  have  seen/  o<£#aAyno9,  '  eye/  etc.,  and  yet  we  find 
6We,  '  the  two  eyes/  which  presupposes  a  form  o/ae,  while  the 
Bceotian  o/craAAo?,  '  eye/  gives  us  the  primitive  guttural 
without  change. 

The  etymology  here  proposed  has  the  advantage  of  account 
ing  perfectly  for  the  accent  of  the  word.  It  is  a  well-known  rule 
for  compounds  of  the  second  declension,  such  as  TratSo/rroi/o?, 
in  which  the  second  part  (KTOVOS)  is  a  verbal  of  two  syllables 
with  short  penult — that  if  this  verbal  has  a  transitive  relation 
to  the  first  part  of  the  compound,  the  accent  is  on  the  penult; 
thus,  7rat^o/cToVo9,  '  son-killing,  murderer  of  a  son  ; '  but  if 
the  verbal  is  intransitive  or  passive  in  its  relation  to  the  other 
part,  the  accent  goes  back  to  the  antepenult  ;  thus 
TraiSo/cTovos,  'son-killed,  killed  by  a  son.'  According  to  this 
rule  tfeoTr/ooTro?,  derived  from  prach  and  accented  on  the 
penult,  could  only  have  the  sense  of  '  questioning  the  gods 
(or  a  god) ' — a  sense  which,  as  we  have  seen,  eiccounts  per 
fectly  for  the  actual  uses  of  the  word. 

The  arguments  in  favor  of  this  derivation  will  gain  addi 
tional  force,  if  we  look  at  the  other  attempts  which  have  been 
made  to  assign  the  etymology  of  the  word.  The  old  estab 
lished  traditional  method  makes  the  TrpoVo?  a  compound  of 
irpo  with  the  root  of  eVo?,  efaeiv,  as  though  TT/DOTTO?  were  for 
TrpoFOTros.  As  a  transitive  compound,  this  would  signify 
'  foretelling  the  gods/  which,  of  course,  could  hardly  have  an 
intelligible  meaning.  As  an  intransitive  compound,  it  would 
signify  '  foretold  by  the  gods/  a  meaning  intelligible  enough, 
but  wholly  inapplicable  here.  To  account  for  its  actual  use, 
we  should  have  to  render  it  '  foretelling  from  the  gods/  i.  <?. 
'  by  communications  derived  from  them/  or  '  foretelling  by 
the  gods/  i.  e.  'by  their  counsel  or  assistance.'  Now  there 
is  some  latitude  in  regard  to  the  relations  expressed  by  com 
pound  words,  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  instances  might  be 
found  which  would  go  to  support  the  rendering  just  given. 
Still,  they  are  inconsistent  with  the  general  analogy  which 
prevails  in  the  composition  of  words,  and  ought  not,  of  course, 


ROOT  PRACH  IN  GREEK.  4-1 

to  be  adopted  without  clear  and  convincing  evidence.  But 
the  form  of  the  word  supplies  an  insuperable  objection  to 
this  etymology.  The  primitive  form,  as  we  have  seen,  would 
have  been  TrpoFoiros.  To  make  TT^OTTO?  out  of  this,  we  must 
suppose  that  the  weak  letter  F  fell  away,  and  that  the  o  of  the 
preposition  was  then  elided  before  the  o  of  the  root.  Now 
there  are  two  circumstances  which  render  this  elision  in  the 
highest  degree  improbable:  i.  that  in  other  compounds  of 
this  root  the  Homeric  language  holds  on  with  markecTtenacity 
to  the  Ft  allowing  no  elision  to  take  place  before  it :  so  in  the 
compound  with  airb,  which  occurs  very  frequently,  but  al 
ways  as  aTTociTrelv,  never  as  aTreiTreiv  :  so  in  aftapToeTTijs,  not 
afj,apT€7nj<; ;  aperpoein]?,  not  a^eTpeirt^  ; — and,  2.  that  even 
before  words  which  began  with  an  original  vowel,  the  prepo 
sition  Trpo  always  retains  its  o,  suffering  it  indeed  to  be  con 
tracted  with  the  following  vowel,  but  never  surrendering  it 
altogether:  thus  typovpos,  '  a  guard,'  from  Trpo  and  opdco,  not 
<£popo?.  So  strong  are  these  reasons  that,  since  Buttmann  in 
his  Lexilogus  declared  himself  against  this  derivation,  it  has 
been  generally  abandoned  :  and  it  is  matter  of  surprise  that 
Benfey  in  his  Wurzellexikon  should  not  only  have  retained 
it,  but  retained  it  without  the  slightest  expression  of  doubt, 
without  intimating  that  it  either  had  been  or  could  be  called 
in  question. 

Buttmann  himself  proposed  to  take  the  word  from  6eo$  and 
TrpeTra).  This  etymology  would  account  well  for  the  form, 
which  would  thus  correspond  (for  instance)  to  #60X0709  from 
0eo?  and  \eya).  How  is  it  as  regards  the  meaning  ?  In  its 
Homeric  use,  Trpiirw  signifies  '  to  be  prominent  or  conspicu 
ous,  to  appear.'  It  is  said  of  things  that  strike  the  eye,  and 
by  later  poets  is  occasionally  applied  to  objects  that  impress 
other  senses — the  hearing  or  even  the  smelling.  From  this 
idea  of  'appearing,'  the  word  came  to  mean,  I.  '  to  appear 
as  something,  be  like  it;'  2.  'to  appear  well,  be  seemly  or  be 
coming' — which  in  later  writers  is  by  far  the  most  frequent 
use  of  the  word.  But  neither  of  these  uses  is  to  be  found  in 
Homer  :  and,  of  course,  neither  of  them  can  well  be  relied 
upon  for  the  explanation  of  OeoTrponros.  For  this  purpose,  we 
must  go  back  to  the  first  meaning,  '  to  be  conspicuous,  to  ap~ 


42  ROOT  PR  A  CH  IN  GREEK. 

pear.'  But  this  meaning  is  intransitive,  and  hence  unsuited 
to  the  accent  of  Oeoirpoiros,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  indicates 
a  transitive  compound.  Buttmann  indeed  suggests  that 
TrpeTTM  may  have  been  originally  transitive,  '  to  make  con 
spicuous,  to  make  appear,  to  show,'  and  he  finds  an  instance 
of  this  earlier  use  preserved  in  a  line  of  Euripides  (Alcestis, 
515,  TL -fcprjiJLa  rfjSe  rfj  Kovpa  TrpeTret?)  ;  but  his  explanation  of 
the  line,  as  President  Woolsey  has  remarked  in  his  note  on 
the  passage,  is  not  only  inconsistent  with  the  settled  usage 
of  the  tragic  poets,  but  at  variance  even  with  the  immediate 
context.  It  must,  however,  be  admitted  as  a  thing  alto 
gether  possible,  that  a  word  which  in  its  separate  use  is 
constantly  intransitive  may  appear  as  transitive  in  a  com 
pound.  Tips,  if  we  assume  it  in  the  present  case,  would 
give  us  for  QeoTrpoTros  the  meaning  '  one  who  makes  a  god  ap 
pear,  manifests  or  reveals  a  god.'  Such  a  designation  for  the 
diviner,  though  certainly  quite  conceivable,  would  belong 
rather  to  the  style  of  rhetorical  description  than  to  the  simpler 
and  more  obvious  views  of  ordinary  etymology.  He  is  a  re- 
vealer  of  the  will,  purpose,  or  knowledge  of  the  divinity  ;  but 
to  call  him  'a  revcaler  of  the  divinity,  one  who  makes  the  god 
appear  to  men,'  seems  unnatural  and  overstrained.  Nor  does 
Buttmann  himself  appear  to  have  understood  the  origin  of 
the  term  in  this  way.  After  explaining  the  primitive  use  of 
TrpeTrcL),  according  to  his  view  of  it,  as  meaning  to  '  make  a 
thing  appear,  show  it,'  he  goes  on  to  say  that  "  probably  the 
old  expression  was  #609  TrpeTrei,  '  a  god  sends  a  sign  '  (causes  an 
appearance) — the  sign  sent  was  called  OeoTrpoiriov  and  the  in 
terpreter  of  it  ^eovrpoTTo?."  In  this  explanation,  it  would  seem, 
he  takes  OeoTrpnTnov,  the  neuter  noun,  directly  from  $eo?  and 
TTyoeVft),  with  the  meaning  '  that  which  a  God  shews,'  'the  sign 
or  omen '  (a  meaning,  by  the  way,  which  the  word  appears 
not  to  have  in  actual  use)  ;  and  then,  from  this  deoTrpoTriov, 
derives  the  masculine  6eo7rpoTro$,  as  if  it  were  '  one  who  deals 
in  OeoTrpoTTia.'  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  such  a  pro 
cedure  is  wholly  inadmissible,  being  in  fact  the  reverse  of  the 
real  one  :  OeoTrpoTriov,  instead  of  coming  before  OeoTrpoTros, 
must  be  formed  from  it,  so  as  to  mean  'that  which  belongs  to 
his  utterance  or  oracle.'  Compare  fiavreiov 


ROOT  PR  A  CH  IN  GREEK.  43 

,  formed  from  [iavrevs,  '  a  prophet/  with  the  mean 
ing  'prophecy  or  oracle.' 

It  is  hardly  worth  while  even  to  mention  a  third  explana 
tion  of  the  word,  according  to  which  it  would  mean  '  one  who 
speaks  things  Sew  Trpenrovra,  '  fitting  for  a  god.' 

It  is  certainly  a  curious  fact  that  a  root  so  widely  extended 
in  the  cognate  languages,  and  so  fully  represented  in  the 
Latin,  should  be  confined  in  Greek  to  a  single  compound,  a 
compound  evidently  formed  after  the  language  had  assumed 
its  distinctive  character,'  and  yet  one  which  may  be  referred 
with  probability  to  the  earliest  period  of  the  language,  and 
which  even  in  the  classic  time  of  Athenian  literature  had  be 
come  an  antique  expression.  Perhaps  the  accidental  coinci 
dence  of  sound  between  Trpevro),  'to  ask,'  and  TrpeTra),  'to  ap 
pear,'  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  the  early  disap 
pearance  of  the  former.  At  all  events,  we  have  a  somewhat 
similar  phenomenon  in  the  Celtic  languages.  The  Irish  re 
tains  the  root,  but  only  in  composition  with  a  proper  Irish 
prefix — a  compound,  therefore,  which  must  have  been  formed 
after  the  language  had  assumed  its  distinctive  character. 
From  the  Welsh  it  seems  to  have  disappeared  altogether, 


III. 

THE  GREEK   GENITIVE  AS  AN  ABLATIVE  CASE. 

1858. 

IT  is  well  known  that  some  eminent  grammarians  have  re 
garded  the  Greek  genitive  as  primarily  a  front-cast,  and 
have  therefore  sought  to  explain  its  various  uses  as  being  all  of 
them  at  bottom  /r<?  //^-relations.  Thus  Kuhner,  in  his  largest 
Greek  Grammar  (ausfuhrliche  Grammatik  dcr  griechischen 
Sprache),  commencing  the  discussion  of  this  case,  says  :  "The 
Genitive  expresses,  I.  in  local  relation,  the  proceeding  from 
an  object,  or  removal  and  separation  from  it,  inasmuch  as  it 
assigns  the  object  or  the  point  from  which  goes  out  the  action 
of  the  verb  :  yafeaQai  Ke\ev0ov,  '  to  retire  from  the  way  ;  ' 
2.  in  causal  relation,  the  cause,  origin,  author,  in  general  the 
object  which  calls  forth  the  action  of  the  verb,  produces  it 
(gignit,  hence  the  significant  name  genitivus)*  excites  it, 
occasions  it  :  iinQv^w  Trjs  aperrjs,  '  I  have  a  desire  for  virtue 
(a  desire  awakened  by  virtue).'  As  both  in  the  local  and  the 
causal  relation  the  direction  whence  lies  at  the  basis,  the  geni 
tive  may  be  named  also  the  whence-cvse"  Thus  Kuhner, 
who,  in  accordance  with  this  exordium,  proceeds  to  develop 
the  uses  of  the  case  as  follows  :  (I  beg  leave  to  present  a 
brief  outline  of  his  development,  and  to  solicit  attention  to  it, 
though  the  detail,  I  am  afraid,  may  appear  a  little  tedious) 
A.  In  LOCAL  relation,  with  words  which  express  more  or 
less  distinctly  the  ideas  of  separation  and  removal  :  to  these 
Kuhner  adds  verbs  of  beginning,  but  with  questionable  pro 
priety  ;  vTrapxeiv  abiKwv  epycov  is  not  '  to  begin  from  unjust 
actions,'  as  a  starting-point,  but  rather  '  to  make  a  beginning 

*  Kuhner  perhaps  means  only  that  the  term  genitive  is  capable  of  bearing  this 
significance  :  not  that  those  who  first  used  it  understood  it  thus.      With  them  the 


nominative  case  (^  bvo^affriKri}  was  the  one  used  to  name  a  person  ;  the  genitive 
(T\  yei/z/d?),  the  one  used  to  express  his  yews,  '  family  connection,  origin,  or 
descent  :  '  thus  'AA.e'lai/5/w  6  Qih'nnrov,  '  Alexander  the  son  of  Philip.' 


GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE.  45 

of,  /;/  unjust  actions  ; '   the  special  relation  here  would  seem 
to  be  partitive  more  than  separative.     Then  B.   In  CAUSAL 
relation,  which  is  drawn  out  to  much  greater  length  than  the 
local,  and  is  arranged  under  three  principal  heads,  according 
as  the  cause  is  conceived  to  be  an  efficient,  an  occasioning,  or 
a  conditioning  cause.     Under  efficient  cause  comes,    I.   Geni 
tive  of  origih  and  author;    2.  Genitive  of  possessor — the  owner 
being  regarded  as  in  a  manner  producing  what  he  posses 
ses,  making  his  money,  making  his  property,  as  we  phrase  it ; 
certainly,  making  it  his   own  ;    3.  Genitive  of  the  ivkole  or 
genitive  partitive — the  whole  being  conceived  as  in  a  sense 
giving  rise  to  its  parts,  producing  them  from  itself;  4.  Geni 
tive  of  place  (where)  and  time  (when) — the  action  being  re 
garded   as  evolved  from   and  by  the  place   and  time  of  its 
occurrence;     5-   Genitive    of  material — either  the    material 
which   makes,  composes  something,  as  a  house  of  stone ;    or 
the  material  which  makes  a  fullness  of  something,   as  full  of 
corn  :  i.  e.  genitive  of  plenty.     Under  this  head  Kiihner  puts 
constructions  such  as  eaOieiv  /cpewv,  'to  eat  of  flesh-meat/  as 
if  the  meat  were  the  material  which  makes  the  eating  (where 
Prof.  Crosby,  with  better  reason,  recognizes  a  partitive  rela 
tion)  ;  also  a/covew  dopvftov,  '  to  hear  a  noise,'  as  if  the  noise 
were  the  material  of  the  sensation  (which  again  is  explained 
differently,  and,  as  it  seems  to  me,  better  by  Prof.  Crosby) : 
rov  KaaiyviJTOv  TI' (/>?;?  ;  '  what  say  you  of  your  brother  ?  '  (where, 
however,  the  genitive   seems   really  to  depend  upon  the  pro 
noun — '  what  report,  what  account  of  your  brother  do  you 
give  ?')  etc.,  etc.     So  much  for  the  efficient  cause.     Next  the' 
occasioning  cause:    this   occurs,   i.  with  words  of  emotion: 
epwv  e/wrafeo  pvdwv,  '  be  heedful  of  my  sayings ' — the  sayings 
themselves  are  to  serve  as  a  cause,  an  occasion  for  heedful- 
ness  ;  2.  with  words  of  punishment,  accusation,  condemnation 
—these  being  consequences  occasioned  by  the  crimes  to  which 
they  relate;   3.  in  some  other  connections,  among  which  we 
find  to?  TroSoji/  efyov,  '  (as  they  were  in  respect  of  feet,  i.  e.)  ac 
cording  to  their  swiftness  of  foot,'  the  feet  being  looked  upon 
as  occasioning  the  state  of  swiftness,  more  or  less,  which  they 
happen  to  be  in.     Third   and  last,   the   conditioning  cause. 
This  is  used  especially  for  expressing  mutual   relations,  the 


46  £REEK''GENITIVE  AS  ABLA  TIVE. 

existence  of  the  relation  on  the  one  side  being  a  necessary 
condition  to  its  existence  on  the  other.  Thus,  I.  Genitive  of 
superiority  and  inferiority:  Ticro-a^epvrjs  ap%ei,  TWV  iroXecov, 
'Tissaphernes  governs  the  cities' — to  a  governor  subjects  are 
an  indispensable  condition;  2.  Genitive  with  comparatives: 
fji6L^o)i>  rov  a$e\<pov,  '  greater  than  his  brother  ' — to  any  greater 
a  something  less  is  an  indispensable  condition.  'This,  how 
ever,  Prof.  Crosby  explains  more  probably  as  a  genitive  of 
distinction,  i.  c.  greater  (in  distinction)  from  his  brother  ; 
3.  Genitive  of  price,  value,  merit — the  price  of  a  commodity 
being  the  condition  of  its  sale  ;  4.  Genitive  with  substantives, 
to  express  almost  any  mutual  relation  :  <P/\wr7ro?  o  Trarrjp 
'  A\e];dv$pov,  '  Philip  the  father  of  Alexander  ' — Alexander  here 
is  the  conditioning  cause  of  Philip's  paternity. 

Such  is  Kiihner's  theory  of  the  Greek  genitive.  Our  dis 
tinguished  countryman  and  associate,  Prof.  Crosby,  adopts 
the  same  leading  view,  but  develops  it  in  his  own  way,  with 
characteristic  ingenuity  and  elegance,  with  much  more  sim 
plicity  and  naturalness  than  the  German  grammarian — with 
all  the  simplicity  and  naturalness,  I  believe,  which  the  neces 
sities  of  his  theory  admit  of — without  the  Beckeritc  tendency, 
too  frequently  apparent  in  K'uhner,  to  impose  a  meaning  on 
language  rather  than  educe  the  meaning  out  of  it. 

I  propose  to  offer  some  remarks  on  this  theory  of  the  Greek 
genitive,  which  regards  it  as  always  a.  from-ca.se,  and  finds  in 
the  idea  of  departure  or  derivation  its  primary  and  pervading 
significance.  That  the  Greek  genitive  is  a  from-case,  in  fre 
quent  use  as  such,  is  conceded  at  the  outset :  the  question 
will  be,  whether  this  was  its  primitive  and  universal  character. 
This  question  might  be  discussed  from  the  standpoint  of 
philosophy — if  philosophy  has  any  point  that  stands  ;  float- 
point  would  perhaps  be  the  more  proper  word.  I  propose, 
however,  to  treat  it  as  a  question  of  history  ;  to  inquire 
whether  in  point  of  fact  the  uses  of  the  case  had  the  genesis 
ascribed  to  them.  It  is  only  the  possibility  of  treating  it  thus 
in  a  historical  way  that  makes  it  proper  for  me  to  bring  it  be 
fore  the  notice  of  the  Oriental  Society  :  it  is  the  historical 
aspect  of  the  subject  that  looks  toward  the  Orient. 

The  Greek  language,  as  all  know,  has  not  preserved  the  com- 


GREEK  GENITIVE  AS 


plete  case-system  of  the  Indo-European  class.  In  this  respect 
it  is  inferior  to  the  Latin,  which,  in  addition  to  the  five  cases 
of  the  Greek,  has  an  ablative,  and,  to  some  extent,  a  locative: 
while  the  Latin  is  inferior  to  the  Zend  and  Sanskrit,  which 
have  a  locative  throughout,  and  besides  that  an  eighth  case, 
the  instrumental.  It  will  be  observed  that  this  full  system  of 
cases  includes  both  ^genitive  and  an  ablative ;  and  that  these 
are  clearly  distinguished  from  each  other  both  in  form  and 
meaning.  The  ablative  singular  in  Sanskrit  is  made  by  adding 
/  or  d  to  the  stem  :  the  rules  of  euphony  in  reference  to  final 
consonants  are  such  in  that  language  as  to  leave  it  uncertain 
whether  the  proper  affix  was  t  or  d.  But  a  comparison  of 
the  Zend  makes  it  probable  that  the  original  form  was  /.  In 
Latin  the  ablative  singular  ended  in  d.  This  ending,  it  is 
true,  does  not  appear  in  the  classical  Latin  :  but  in  the  oldest 
monuments  of  the  language,  such  as  the  inscriptions  of  the 
Columna  rostrata  (260  B.  C.),  and  the  Senatus-Consultum  de 
Bacchanalibus  (186  B.  C.),  it  is  found  as  the  regular  and  con 
stant  ending  :  thus  we  find  prceda-d,  scnatu-d  as  ablatives  of 
prceday  sen  at  us  ;  in  a  I  tod  niarid=in  alto  mari  ;  presented, 
dictatored,  from  prcesens,  dictator.  The  Oscan  inscriptions 
show  the  same  ending  d  through  all'  the  declensions  :  e.  g. 
dolud  malludy  corresponding  to  Old  Latin  dolod  malod,  later 
Latin  dolo  malo,  'with  evil  art,  fraud.'  The  ablative  plural 
in  all  these  languages  coincides  with  the  dative  plural,  and 
has  in  all  of  them  substantially  the  same  ending:  in  Sanskrit 
bkyas,  Zend  byo  (with  6  for  as  by  a  regular  euphonic  law), 
Latin  bus.  If  now  we  look  at  the  meaning  of  the  case  thus 
formed,  we  find  it  to  be,  what  the  name  we  give  it  imports, 
a/n?;//-case.  It  is  appropriately  used  in  expressing  removal, 
separation,  or  distinction.  It  is  used  in  a  transferred  or 
metaphorical  sense  to  express  cause — not  cause  in  the  all-com 
prehending  extension  given  to  that  idea  by  the  theory  just 
described  —  but  cause  that  is  cause  (if  I  may  be  allowed  the 
expression),  in  which  the  character  of  origin,  procession, 
derivation,  is  obvious  and  palpable.  As  it  may  thus  express 
not  only  the  producing  cause,  but  also  the  means,  it  en 
croaches  on  the  borders  of  the  instrumental  :  in  Latin,  in 
deed,  which  has  lost  the  instrumental  form,  the  whole  domain 


48  GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE. 

of  that  case  has  been  seized  upon  and  appropriated  by  the 
ablative.  Still  further,  the  Latin  ablative  covers  in  a  great 
measure  the  ground  of  the  original  locative,  and  is  thus  much 
broader  in  its  extension,  and  more  various  in  its  character, 
than  the  corresponding  case  in  Zend  and  Sanskrit.  Still  it 
remains  the  fact,  that  in  all  these  languages  the  ablative  is  the 
from-ca.se,  the  proper  case  for  expressing  zfrom,  whether 
literally  in  space-relation,  or  metaphorically  in  those  relations 
which  most  distinctly  and  unequivocally  imply  a/r<?;/7-idea. 

From  the  endings  of  the  ablative,  as  just  given,  those  of  the 
genitive  are  widely  different.  The  Sanskrit  genitive  singular 
adds  s  to  the  stem,  often  with  a  connecting-vowel  a,  making 
as,  Zend  o,  Greek  09,  Latin  is.  But  to  stems  in  short  a  the 
Sanskrit  adds sya:  thus  vrikd,  '  wolf,'  Nom.  vrika-s,  Gen.  vrika- 
sya.  To  this  corresponds  the  Homeric  genitive  \VKO-IO  (for 
\VKO~O-IO)  in  which  the  a  is  dropped  ;  in  the  common  form  i  is 
also  dropped  and  the  two  o's  contracted  :  \VKO-O,  \VKOV.  In 
Latin  thcjtts  of  hn-jns,  en-jus,  c-jus,  perhaps  corresponds  to 
the  same  ending  sya.  In  the  genitive  plural,  the  Sanskrit  has 
dm,  Greek  aw,  Latin  um.  Some  of  the  pronouns  in  Sanskrit 
have  sam  instead  of  dm;  thus  from  ka,  interrogative,  come  Gen. 
Plur.  kc-sham,  fern,  kd-sdm.  These  reappear  in  Latin,  with 
the  usual  change  of  s  to  r,  as  quo-rum,  qua-rum.  The  Latin 
even  extends  this  formation  (in  rum)  to  all  words  of  the  first, 
second,  and  fifth  declensions.  The  genitive  is  the  only  case  of 
the  eight  which  remains  to  us  in  English  (leaving  out  of  view 
the  pronouns) ;  and  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  the  meaning 
indicated  by  our  common  name  for  it,  the  possessive,  was  in 
fact  the  primitive  meaning  of  the  form.  If,  however,  we  look 
at  the  general  range  of  its  use  in  the  languages  that  have  it, 
we  may  describe  it  as  the  case  of  appurtenance,  which  means 
belonging  to  something,  pertaining  to  it.  Its  most  frequent 
use,  and  by  far  the  most  important,  is  with  substantives,  to 
mark  one  thing  as  in  some  way  belonging  to,  or  connected 
with  another.  When  used  with  verbs,  it  represents  the  action 
of  the  verb  as  belonging  to  or  connected  with  the  object, 
rather  than  as  falling  directly  upon  it :  as,  in  English,  /  'know 
of  the  man  differs  from  I  know  tJie  man. 

Now  in  these  simple  facts  we  have   the   materials   for  an 


GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE.  49 

argument,  the  grounds  for  a  probable  conclusion.  The  San 
skrit,  Greek,  and  Latin  have  a  case  common  to  all  the  three, 
formed  by  all  in  the  same  way,  by  the  same  additions  to  the 
stem,  and  employed  by  all  in  the  same  way  (as  regards  its 
leading  use),  i.  e.  as  a  case  of  appurtenance.  The  Sanskrit 
and  Latin  have  another  case,  common  to  both,  formed  alike  in 
both,  and  employed  alike  in  both  (as  regards  its  leading  use), 
i.  e.  as  a  case  of  departure,  a/V0;/z-case.  This  latter  case  is  want 
ing  in  Greek,  its  meaning  being  expressed  by  the  one  before 
described.  What  is  the  natural  inference  ?  Is  it  not,  that  the 
primary  use  of  the  genitive  in  Greek  is  that  which  belongs  to 
the  same  form  in  the  other  languages,  and  that  its  ablative 
use  has  been  superadded  to  this,  through  the  loss  or  aban 
donment  of  a  proper  ablative  form  ?  If  so,  then,  instead  of 
explaining  those  uses  of  the  Greek  genitive  in  which  it  coin 
cides  with  the  Sanskrit  and  Latin  by  its  ablative  use,  we 
ought  rather  to  reverse  the  process,  to  show  how  the  abla 
tive  use  can  be  explained  from  that  of  the  proper  genitive. 

The  only  way,  perhaps,  of  escaping  from  this  conclusion, 
would  be  to  set  up  a  hypothesis  of  extremely  hypothetical 
character,  something  like  the  following:  "That  the  ablative 
form  as  distinct  from  the  genitive  is  a  later  thing  in  the  his 
tory  of  the  Indo-European  languages  ;  that  the  primitive  stock 
had  but  one  form,  the  genitive  ;  that  this  form  was  used 
originally  in  the  meaning  of  an  ablative,  but  in  process  of 
time  developed  from  that  a  great  variety  of  uses,  such  as  we 
find  in  the  Greek  genitive  ;  that  afterwards,  for  the  sake  of 
distinctness  or  for  some  other  reason,  a  new  form  was  in 
vented,  an  ablative  form ;  and  that  a  portion  of  the  uses  of 
the  genitive,  in  fact  its  most  original  uses,  were  set  off  to 
this  new  ablative  case." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  the  assumptions  involved 
in  this  hypothesis.  If  the  ablative  form  is  of  later  origin 
than  the  genitive,  it  does  not  follow  that  its  meaning  was 
before  expressed  by  the  genitive.  If  before  the  invention  of 
an  ablative  form  its  meaning  was  expressed  by  the  genitive, 
it  does  not  follow,  nor  is  there  evidence  to  prove,  that  this 
ablative  meaning  was  the  primitive  use  of  the  genitive,  out 
of  which  all  its  other  uses  were  developed.  But  it  is  far  from 
4 


50  GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE. 

certain  that  the  ablative  form  is  actually  more  recent  than 
the  genitive.  It  is  true  that  the  ablative  singular  in  t  or  d 
does  not  occur,  so  far  as  we  know,  in  the  languages  of  Europe, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Latin  and  its  Italican  kindred. 
But  the  non-appearance  of  a  case-form  in  particular  languages 
does  not  prove  that  they  never  had  it.  Our  vernacular  has 
in  nouns  but  one  inflected  case,  the  genitive  ;  but  our  ances 
tors  a  thousand  years  ago  had  a  nominative,  dative,  accusa 
tive,  and  vocative.  In  pronouns  they  had  the  trace  of  an  in 
strumental.  Could  we  make  out  the  Teutonic  as  it  was  a 
thousand  years  earlier,  we  might  perhaps  find  a  complete  in 
strumental  form,  with  an  ablative  and  a  locative,  the  perfect 
apparatus  of  Indo-European  noun-inflection.  The  ending  of 
the  dative  and  ablative  plural  (Sanskrit  bJiyas,  Eatin  bus) 
lingers  still  on  the  extreme  western  verge  of  Indo-European- 
ism,  in  the  Irish  bh.  The  case  which  has  this  ending  is  used 
in  the  Irish  as  a  dative  plural  :  that  it  was  once  used  as  an 
ablative  is  not  unlikely,  though  we  have  no  certain  proof  of 
the  fact,  since  the  from-r elation  is  always  expressed  by  means 
of  prepositions  ;  and  though  these  prepositions  are  regularly 
followed  by  the  form  in  bli,  yet  nothing  positive  can  be  in 
ferred  from  that,  as  other  prepositions  show  the  same  con 
struction.  It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  this  discus 
sion  is  somewhat  irrelevant,  with  reference  to  our  present  ob 
ject.  Eor  that,  it  matters  little  whether  the  genitive  was  or 
was  not  earlier  in  its  origin  than  the  ablative.  Whether  or 
not  any  members  of  the  Indo-European  family  broke  off  from 
the  common  stock,  carrying  with  them  a  genitive,  before  the 
ablative  form  had  made  its  appearance, '  is  of  little  conse 
quence  to  us  in  this  inquiry.  Eor  the  Greeks,  it  is  quite  cer 
tain,  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  On  that  point  the  Eatin  abla 
tive  is  an  unequivocal  and  unimpeachable  witness.  The 
Italican  languages  may  have  assumed  a  distinct  existence 
about  the  same  time  with  the  Greek  :  that  they  are  not  of 
later  origin  than  the  Greek,  will  be  admitted  on  all  hands. 
As  they  have  a  genitive  and  ablative  completely  distinct  from 
each  other,  we  are  forced  to  believe  that  the  distinction  of 
these  two  cases  in  form  and  meaning  existed  in  the  common 
language  before  the  separation  of  the  Greek,  and  was  not  the 


GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE.  5 1 

result  of  any  later  development.  It  follows  that  the  Greeks 
must  have  given  up  •an  existing  and  established  ablative  form, 
transferring  its  functions  to  the  genitive.  Why  they  did  so, 
it  may  not  be  possible  for  us  to  ascertain.  We  should  find 
it  equally  difficult  to  show  why  they  gave  up  the  instru 
mental  form,  which  is  found  in  the  Slavonic,  the  Lithuanian, 
-and  to  some 'extent  even  in  the  Teutonic  idioms;  or  why 
they  gave  up  the  dative  form,  which  is  almost  as  widely  re 
tained  among  the  languages  of  Europe  as  the  genitive,  while 
they  transferred  its  functions  to  the  locative.  It  is  important, 
however,  to  observe,  in  regard  to  the  ablative,  that  the  San 
skrit,  even  in  its  earlier  Vedic  form,  shows  us  to  some  extent 
the  same  condition  which  we  find  in  Greek.  The  ablative 
singular  in  /,  already  described,  belongs  to  only  one  class  of 
Sanskrit  nouns,  though  a  most  numerous  and  important 
class — words  which  have  stems  in  short  a,  corresponding  to 
the  Greek  and  Latin  substantives  and  adjectives  of  the  second 
declension.  For  all  other  nouns  in  Sanskrit,  the  form  of  the 
genitive  singular  is  used  also  as  an  ablative,  precisely  as  in 
Greek  ;  though  in  the  other  numbers  the  Sanskrit  invariably 
distinguishes  the  two  cases.  The  Greek,  then,  only  carries 
out  consistently,  through  all  words  and  all  numbers,  a  ten 
dency  which  the  Sanskrit  shows  in  most  classes  of  words  in 
the  singular  number.  Bopp  conjectures  that  the  use  of  the 
genitive  for  the  ablative  in  Sanskrit  rests  upon  a  merely 
phonetic  interchange'  of  consonant-sounds  ;  he  supposes 
that  nans,  i  ship'  (for  instance),  stem  ndu  or  ndv,  made  origi 
nally  an  ablative  ndv-at,  and  that  this  by  a  sibilation  of  the  t 
became  ndv-as,  like  the  genitive.  Now  the  assumed  muta 
tion  of  t  to  s  is  perhaps  hardly  borne  out  for  the  Sanskrit  by 
the  euphonic  analogies  of  that  language.  But  for  the  Greek 
there  is  no  difficulty  in  such  an  assumption  ;  the  euphonic 
law  of  the  language  proscribes  the  final  r  ;  and  as  we  have 
Trpo?  for  TTpori  or  TTpor,  and  XeXu/co?  for  \e\vrcor,  Gen.  XeTuwor- 
09,  so  we  might  have  vaos,  VUFOS  for  an  earlier  vapor.  The 
identity  thus  arising  between  the  genitive  and  ablative  forms 
in  most  singular  words  would  naturally  contribute  much  to 
bring  about  a  universal  substitution  of  the  one  case  for  the 
other.  According  to  a  plausible  conjecture  of  Bopp's,  the 


52  GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE. 

same  change  of  r  to  9  has  occurred  even  in  adjectives  of  the 
second  declension,  producing  the  adverbs  in  &)?  (for  COT)  ;  thus 
,  '  badly,'  would  be  for  /caKwr,  an  original  ablative  of 
OS,  '  bad,'  though  used  in  an  instrumental  rather  than  a 
proper  ablative  meaning  :  compare  Sanskrit  papa,  '  evil,' 
Nom.  papas,  Abl.  papat,  '  from  evil,  by  evil  means,  in  evil 
manner.' 

I  think  it  must  be  evident,  from  /these  considerations,  that 
there  is  no  historical  reason  for  regarding  those  uses  of  the 
Greek  genitive  in  which  it  coincides  with  the  common  use  of 
that  case  through  the  other  Indo-European  languages  as 
arising  from  the  idea  of  the  ablative  ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
that  there  are  historical  probabilities  of  considerable  force 
against  such  a  supposition.  In  the  view  of  comparative 
philology,  the  theory  of  Kiihner,  who  deduces  the  idea  of 
appurtenance  from  that  of  departure,  is  less  warranted  than 
Madvig's,  who  takes  the  idea  of  appurtenance  as  the  proper 
meaning  of  the  case,  and  deduces  from  that  the  idea  of  de 
parture  ;  since  departure  (he  says),  removal,  separation,  im 
ply  a  previous  connection  or  appurtenance.  Thus  the  first 
idea  of  the  genitive  would  be  '  in  connection  with  ; '  the  second 
idea,  'out  of  connection  with.'  Why  the  genitive  should  not 
equally  have  come  to  mean  '  into  connection  with,'  it  might  be 
hard  to  explain.  In  fact,  this  view  of  Madvig's  seems 
scarcely  tenable,  and  he  himself  does  not  insist  upon  it,  or 
attempt  to  give  it  that  completeness  of  development  which 
Kiihner  and  Crosby  have  given  to  the  opposite  view.  The 
truth  appears  to  be,  that  the  Greek  genitive  combines  in 
itself  the  functions  of  two  cases  originally  distinct,  functions 
associated  in  Greek  not  so  much  from  any  perceived  internal 
connection  between  them,  as  from  accidents  affecting  the 
outward  forms  of  inflection.  The  Greek  language  itself  fur 
nishes  another  and  more  striking  instance  of  this  accumula 
tion  of  offices,  originally  distinct,  in  one  form.  The  Greek 
dative,  it  is  well  known,  both  in  singular  and  plural,  has  the 
form  of  a  locative  case,  denoting  the  place  where  or  in  which  ; 
but,  as  actually  used,  it  combines,  with  the  meaning  of  a 
locative,  those  of  the  dative  and  the  instrumental.  These,  in 
the  full  system  of  the  Indo-European  languages,  make  three 


GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE.  53 

distinct  cases.  In  this  instance,  Prof.  Crosby,  guided  by  his 
finer  appreciation  for  language,  has  recognized  the  diversities 
of  meaning  as  fundamental,  and  abstained  from  any  attempt 
to  connect  the  locative  and  instrumental  uses  with  the  proper 
dative.  Kiihner,  on  the  other  hand,  whether  that  his  sensi 
bility  to  language  was  less  delicate  from  the  first,  or  because 
it  was  blunted  by  his  Beckerite  philosophy,  or  for  both  rea 
sons  together,  has  been  less  abstinent  ;  he  makes  no  scruple 
to  identify  all  these  uses.  The  fundamental  use  of  th'e  case 
(he  says)  is  the  locative,  to  express  the  where :  from  this 
comes,  on  the  one  hand,  the  proper  ^dative,  the  whither,  and 
on  the  other,  the  instrumental,  the  whence t  With  equal  pro 
priety,  as  the  genitive  and  dative  have  but  one  form  in  the 
Greek  dual,  he  might  for  that  number  derive  all  the  uses  of 
the  genitive  also  from  what  he  recognizes  as  the  fundamental 
idea  of  the  dative.  This  could  give  him  no  difficulty  :  for 
as  the  locative  where  of  that  case  has  developed  an  instru 
mental  zvhence,  and  as  all  the  relations  of  the  genitive  are  in 
his  view  W^;^^-relations,  they  could  easily  be  connected  with 
the  instrumental  dative.  To  a  grammarian  whose  where  by 
natural  evolution  develops  a  whither  and  a  whence — that  is, 
gives  at  once  all  possible  space-relations — it  cannot  be  difficult 
from  any  given  relation  to  derive  all  other  possible  relations. 
If  the  genitive  were  not  only  a  genitive  and  ablative,  as  it  is 
in  the  Greek  singular  and  plural,  and  to  a  great  extent  in  the 
Sanskrit  singular,  but  a  genitive  and  locative,  as  it  is  in  the 
Sanskrit  dual,  or  a  genitive,  locative,  dative,  instrumental  and 
ablative,  as  it  is  in  the  Greek  dual — and  even  if  to  all  these  it 
superadded  the  offices  of  nominative  and  accusative — such 
modes  of  explanation  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  demonstrate 
the  fundamental  identity  of  all  these  uses. 

Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  I  do  not  regard  it  as  ab 
surd  in  itself  (however  unhistorical  it  may  be)  to  derive  all 
the  uses  of  the  Greek  genitive  from  a  single  root — the  one 
idea  of  departure.  If  the  historical  argument  were  as  strong 
in  its  favor  as  it  actually  is  against  it,  I  should  not  reject  it 
as  a  thing  incredible.  The  historical  analogies  sometimes 
brought  up  in  its  support  have,  as  it  seems  to  me,  but  little 
force.  It  is  said  that  the  Greek  genitive  can  almost  always 


54  GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE. 

be  represented  by  the  English  '  of/  and  that  of  means  '  from/ 
so  that  father  of  Alexander  must  have  meant  originally 
'  father/;w//  Alexander/  house  of  Miltiades  must  have  meant 
(  house  from  Miltiades/  and  so  in  all  those  uses  where  the 
from-idea  seems  at  first  view  most  alien  from  the  proper 
meaning  of  the  genitive.  Similarly  the  French  genitive  is 
made  by  the  preposition  de,  the  original  'meaning  of  which  is 
'  from.'  But  the  original  meaning  of  a  preposition  is  not  of 
necessity  to  be  regarded  as  having  once  belonged  to  it  in 
every  phrase  or  class  of  phrases  which  contains  it.  Compare 
the  English  preposition  t,o,  as  used  with  the  infinitive.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  this  preposition  originally  meant 
'  towards.'  There  can  be  no  doubt  that,  when  first  .used  with 
the  infinitive,  it  was  in  this  sense  of  direction  or  tendency. 
But  it  is  equally  certain  that  with  the  infinitive,  when  used  as 
the  subject  of  a  sentence,  it  has  not,  and  never  could  have 
had,  such  a  meaning.  To  err  is  human  never  meant,  or 
could  have  meant,  'toward  erring  is  human. '  One  who  should 
attempt  to  derive  this  use  of  the  preposition  by  internal  con 
nection  from  its  original  meaning  would  have  to  subject  lan 
guage  to  unwarrantable  force.  The  to  was,  no  doubt,  first 
used  with  the  infinitive  in  cases  where  the  meaning  '  towards  ' 
was  appropriate — either  literally,  /  sent  him  to  do  it,  i.  c.  '  to 
ward  doing  it/  or  metaphorically,  I  exhorted,  commanded,  re 
quested  him  to  do  it.  In  this  way  it  extended  its  use,  until  it 
came  to  be  regarded  as  the  proper  concomitant  or  exponent 
of  the  infinitive,  without  reference  to  its  origin  :  and  only 
then,  when  its  original  force  had  vanished,  when  it  had  taken 
on  a  wholly  different  character,  could  it  be  used  in  such  ex 
pressions  as  to  err  is  human.  Now  something  like  this  may 
have  been  true  in  reference  to  the  genitive  in  of  or  de.  The 
preposition  was  perhaps  applied  first  in  those  cases  of  the 
genitive  which  may  without  violence  be  regarded  as  ablatives  : 
as  John  of  Salisbury  (where  we  may  say  either  '  belonging  to/ 
or  'arising  from  Salisbury  '),  one  of  t lie  peers  (one  belonging  to, 
or  one  taken  from  the  peers),  the  son  of  Alfred  (belonging  to 
him,  or  springing  from  him,  as  his  son),  etc.  Having  thus  es 
tablished  itself  in  these  and  similar  cases  as  an  equivalent  for 
the  genitive,  the  form  with  <?/may  then  have  been  extended, 


GREEK  GENITIVE  AS  ABLATIVE.  55 

without  reference  to  its  proper  meaning,  so  as  to  represent  the 
genitive  in  its  other  uses.  If  this  course  of  things  be  admitted 
as  probable,  or  even  possible,  it  cannot  be  asserted  that  all  the 
uses  of  the  genitive  in  of  or  de  were  ever  actually  thought  of 
as/r<?;/2-relations,  in  any  development  or  modification  of  the 
/n?;//-idea.  And  of  course  the  English  and  French  construc 
tions  cannot  be  relied  on  as  parallel  cases  to  support  the 
theory  which  makes  all  uses  of  the  Greek  genitive  to  befrom- 
relations,  developments  or  modifications  of  the/r0;#-idea. 

It  may  be  thought,  however,  that  there  is  some  practical 
advantage  in  making  the  student  refer  all  uses  of  the  same 
form,  even  if  originally  distinct,  to  one  common  root  ;  that 
the  one  form  and  one  universal  meaning  will  thus  stand 
together  in  his  mind,  mutually  supporting  and  supported,  and 
the  phenomena  of  the  language  present  a  unity  and  harmony 
which  must  be  lost  under  a  different  treatment.  Whatever 
advantages  may  be  gained  in  this  way  are  perhaps  hardly  an 
equivalent  for  the  sacrifice  of  truth,  at  least  of  historic  proba 
bility,  which  this  method  involves.  But  there  is  another 
point  to  be  considered — a  question  of  pedagogical  ethics — 
is  there  not  some  danger  of  blunting  the  philological  con 
science  of  the  student  ?  While  I  admit  the  abstract  possi 
bility  of  deducing  all  uses  of  the  genitive  from  this  single 
root,  I  cannot  help  believing,  and  my  brief  analysis  of 
Kuhner's  scheme  may  bear  me  out  in  the  belief,  that  the  pro 
cess  can  hardly  be  accomplished  without  a  good  deal  of 
straining  and  forcing.  It  cannot  be  well  for  the  learner  that 
he  should  be  accustomed,  in  the  first  stadium  of  his  gram 
matical  course,  to  subject  the  facts  of  language  to  a  process 
of  screwing  and  twisting  ;  that  he  should  be  taught  to  desert 
the  simple,  obvious,  natural  interpretation  of  language  for 
that  which  is  constrained  or  arbitrary. 


IV. 

ON  BEKKER'S  DIGAMMATED  TEXT  OF  HOMER. 

1863. 

IT  is  more  than  forty  years  since  Richard  Payne  Knight  pub 
lished  in  1820  his  famous  digammated  Iliad — or  rather 
Vilviad — of  Homer.  The  book  has  taken  its  place  among 
the  curiosities  of  literature.  Its  author  was  an  ingenious  and 
elegant  scholar  ;  but  he  had  his  hobby,  and  he  rode  it  unmer 
cifully.  The  horse  of  Phidippides,  the  spendthrift  son  in 
Aristophanes'  Clouds,  was  marked  with  a  KOTTTTO.  (KOTTTT  arias). 
Payne  Knight's  hobby  was  branded  with  another  lost  letter 
of  the  primitive  Greek  alphabet,  the  Digamma  :  wherever 
he  goes,  he  bears  the  digamma  with  him. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  circumstances  about  Payne 
Knight's  Iliad,  that,  more  than  twenty  years  after  its  publica 
tion,  a  distinguished  American  scholar  should  have  thought 
it  worth  while  to  reproduce  three  books  of  it  on  this  side  the 
ocean  (see  Anthon's  Home*r,  New  York,  1844).  A  page  or 
two  by  way  of  specimen  might  have  been  amusing  at  least, 
even  if  uninstructive  :  but  to  take  up  in  this  way  more  than 
fifty  pages  of  a  school-book  was  to  make  the  joke  somewhat 
ponderous. 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  the  example  of  Payne 
Knight  would  deter  succeeding  editors  from  repeating  an  ex 
periment  which  in  his  hands  had  turned  out  in  a  way  at  once 
so  unfortunate  and  so  ludicrous.  But  Immanuel  Bekker,  the 
Coryphaeus  of  recent  textual  criticism,  has  not  shrunk  from  the 
hazard.  In  1858  he  brought  out  an  Iliad  and  Odyssey  in 
which  the  lost  letter  is  admitted  to  a  place  in  the  Homeric 
text.  This  work  embodies  the  results  of  many  years'  minute 
and  laborious  study.  In  1809,  after  the  appearance  of  Wolf's 
Homer  in  its  third  edition,  Bekker,  then  a  young  man,  re 
viewed  it  in  the  Jena  Litter  at  ur-Zeitung.  The  review  is  said 


BEKKERS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER.         57 

to  have  shown  great  mastery  of  the  subject,  and  great  aptitude 
for  those  critical  labors  which  were  to  form  the  life-work  of  its 
author.      In  1843  he  published  a  new  recension  of  the  Homeric 
text,  which  was  immediately  and  universally  recognized  as  a 
marked   advance  on  that  of  Wolf.       For  the  last  five  or  six 
years,  he   has  been  giving  out  in  the  Monatsberichte  of  the 
Berlin  Academy  a  highly  remarkable   series   of  observations 
and  researches  in  reference  to  Homer.     With  great  ingenuity 
and  acuteness,  they  evince  an  amount  of  patient  labor  which 
is  absolutely  marvellous.     Thus,  he  goes  through  the  whole 
extent  of  the  poems  to   note  and   collect   the  verses  in  which 
the  third  foot  is  without  a  caesura.      In  the    15, 694  verses  of 
the  Iliad,  he  finds  only  185  which  have  no  caesura  in  the  third 
foot;  in  the  12,101  of  the  Odyssey,  only  71.     Again,  he  goes 
through  the  whole  extent  of  the  poems  to  mark  the  cases  of 
bucolic  caesura,  and  observe  whether  the  fourth  foot,  the  one 
which  precedes  the  caesura,  is  a  dactyl  or  a  spondee.     Thus, 
in  the  fifth  book  of  the  Iliad  he  finds  531  bucolic  caesuras,   of 
which  470  are  preceded  by  dactyls,  61   by  spondees  ;   in  the 
eleventh  book,  575  bucolic  caesuras,  478  preceded  by  dactyls, 
97  by  spondees  ;   and  so  on  for  the  other  books.     These  are 
only  specimens  of  the  tasks  which  this  conscientious  and  in 
defatigable  critic  has  imposed  upon  himself.     The  results  of 
these  protracted  investigations   appear  in  his  last  edition  of 
the  Iliad  and   Odyssey,  that  of  1858.     This  edition   shows  a 
great  advance  upon   his  first,  of  1843.       It   is,   in   fact,   con 
structed  on  a  different  principle,  and  aims  at  a  different  ob 
ject.     The  aim  of  Bekker  in  his  first  edition,  like  that  of  Wolf 
before  him,  was  in  general  to  reproduce  the  Homeric  text  as 
it  was  settled  by  the  great  critic  Aristarchus,  about  two  cen 
turies  before    Christ,   and  handed  down   without   intentional 
variation  by  subsequent  copyists.      It  was  the  rule  with  Wolf, 
and  with  Bekker  in  his  first  edition,  to  give  the  readings  which 
certainly  or  probably   belonged  to  Aristarchus,  except  in  oc 
casional  instances   where  there  was   unequivocal   evidence  to 
show  the  priority  of  a  different  reading.      But   in  his  second 
edition  Bekker  has  taken  a  wider  range.       He  has  adopted  as 
his  guide  the  principle  of  analogy,  and   by  the  help  of  it  has 
sought  to  go  back  beyond  Aristarchus.      Relying  on  analogies 


58  BEKKERS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

presented  by  a  careful  study  of  the  Homeric  poems,  he  has 
departed  in  many  cases  from  the  readings  of  the  manuscripts, 
even  where  these  could  be  traced  with  more  or  less  certainty 
to  Aristarchus  himself.  The  general  propriety  of  this  method 
has  been  disputed  in  many  quarters.  It  is,  indeed,  rather 
singular  in  a  critic  like  Bekker,  who  strenuously  maintains 
the  fragmentary  origin  of  the  poems,  and  who  finds  evidence 
of  such  an  origin  in  the  varieties  and  inconsistencies  which 
they  show,  both  as  to  grammatical  forms  and  as  to  the  use 
of  words.  He  expects  departures  from  analogy  ;  he  re 
gards  them  as  having  an  d  priori  probability  ;  and  yet  the 
tendency  of  his  criticism  is  to  sweep  them  away  from  the  text, 
wherever  this  can  be  done  by  gentle  means  :  for  he  abstains 
on  principle  from  changes  of  a  violent  or  extreme  character  ; 
he  does  not  treat  his  text  with  the  despotic  ingenuity  of  a 
Bentley. 

But  our  object  at  present  is  to  consider  only  one  feature  of 
the  work — its  introduction  of  the  digamma.  The  objectors 
generally  admit  that  the  digamma-sound  (the  v,  or  rather,  the 
w-sound)  belonged  originally  to  the  Homeric  poems,  and  that 
it  is  proper  in  commentaries  and  other  philological  works  to 
point  out  the  traces  of  its  existence  and  to  discuss  the  extent 
of  its  use.  But  they  object  to  a  cligammated  text.  They 
maintain  with  much  plausibility  that  the  poems  from  their 
first  reduction  to  writing  have  never  shown  this  letter  ;  and 
that  the  attempt  to  go  back,  not  only  beyond  the  first  manu 
scripts  that  we  have,  but  beyond  the  first  that  ever  existed, 
can  have  no  reasonable  hope  of  success.  At  any  rate,  they 
say,  the  case  is  not  yet  ripe  for  a  digammated  text.'  In  re 
gard  to  many  words,  it  is  still  uncertain  whether  they  were  or 
were  not  sounded  with  a  digamma  in  the  Homeric  time  ;  and 
in  regard  to  many  which  certainly  were  so,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  they  were  uniformly  sounded  with  this  letter,  or 
whether  it  was  not  sometimes  omitted  in  pronunciation.  If 
we  take  words  which  certainly  had  a  digamma  in  the  Homeric 
language,  and  attempt  to  represent  them  uniformly  with  this 
letter,  we  must  make  many  violent  and  arbitrary  changes  of 
the  text.  If  we  adopt  the  principle  of  giving  them  with  di 
gamma  wherever  it  can  be  done  without  such  changes,  we  have 


BEKKER'S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER,  59 

to  draw  an*uncertain  line  between  changes  which  are  violent 
and  changes  which  are  not  so.  And  whichever  of  these 
courses  we  take,  we  can  have  no  assurance  that  we  are  repro 
ducing  the  genuine  Homeric  usage.  It  is  impossible  to  deny 
the  force  of  these  objections.  But  their  force  would  be  much 
greater,  if  by  the  decree  of  fate  the  world  were  restricted  to 
one  printed  text  of  Homer,  just  this  and  no  more.  In  that 
case,  we  should  say  without  hesitation,  give  us  a  text  which 
comes  as  nearly  as  possible  to  that  which  Aristarchus — follow 
ing,  as  we  know  that  he  did,  with  great  soberness  and  cau 
tion,  the  testimony  of  the  best  manuscripts  that  he  could  find 
— fixed  upon  as  the  true  one  ;  or,  if  you  depart  from  that,  do 
so  only  when  there  is  decisive  evidence  to  warrant  the  de 
parture.  As  a  basis  for  Homeric  study,  as  a  standard  for 
general  use  and  reference,  a  text  thus  constituted  is  the  best 
that  we  can  have.  But  we  are  by  no  means  restricted  to  a 
single  text.  For  general  purposes,  we  may  continue  to  use 
Bekker's  first  edition,  or  we  may  take,  what  differs  very  little 
from  it,  the  text  of  Dindorf  in  T.eubner's  Bibliotheca,  or  any 
better  one  which  we  can  find  constructed  on  the  same  prin 
ciples.  But  Bekker's  second  edition  will  still  have  its  value 
as  a  tentative,  to  show  how  far  the  principle  of  analogy,  in  the 
hands  of  a  consummate  critic,  will  serve  to  correct  and  im 
prove  the  text  of  Homer  which  has  come  down  to  us  by  tra 
dition  from  the  ancient  Alexandrine  editors.  And  especially 
with  reference  to  the  digamma  it  will  have  a  value  of  this  kind, 
as  showing  what  results  can  be  secured  by  an  intelligent, 
moderate,  and  cautious  attempt  to  reinstate  the  long-lost 
Homeric  letter.  On  this  point  the  editor  himself  says,  in  his 
brief  and  pithy  preface  :  "  The  yEolic  letter,  after  it  had  dis 
appeared  through  time  and  negligence,  was  by  the  mar 
vellous  sagacity  of  Bentley  reclaimed  from  oblivion  ;  but  lay 
thus  for  a  long  time,  ridiculed  by  wits,  by  scholars  invidiously 
assailed  or  unintelligently  defended  [the  last  evidently  a  hit  at 
Payne  Knight].  By  Heyn£  it  was  admitted,  at  least  into  his 
commentary.  The  indispensable  uses  of  this  letter  I  could 
no  longer  treat  with  contempt.  I  have  therefore  restored  the 
digamma,  but  so  far  only  as  I  had  the  power  and  right  to  do, 
proceeding  cautiously  and  with  moderated  step  :  I  have  re- 


60  BEKKER  S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

stored  it  to  its  own  place,  as  indicated  by  manifest" traces,  not 
by  eager  wishes  or  by  hasty  assumptions  of  my  own." 

This  language  is  fully  borne  out  by  an  inspection  of  the  book. 
The  carefulness  and  conscientiousness  of  the  editor  are  every 
where  apparent.  In  deciding  what  words  are  to  be  regarded 
as  having  the  digamma,  he  relies  mainly  on  the  indications  of 
the  Homeric  verse.  From  this  it  follows  as  a  natural  con 
sequence  that  he  recognizes  only  an  initial  digamma.  Thus 
he  writes  Jto?,  '  of  Zeus,'  /cX^t?,  *  key,'  ot?,  '  sheep,'  not  AIFQS, 
K\r]Fis,  OFW,  though  there  is  strong  reason,  derived  from  in 
scriptions  or  from  later  dialects  or  from  cognate  tongues,  for 
believing  that  these  words  had  digamma  in  the  Homeric  lan 
guage.  He  does  not,  however,  reject  the  initial  digamma  of 
a  word  when  it  is  brought  by  a  prefix  or  by  composition  into 
the  middle.  Thus  the  digamma  of  peiicoa-i,  '  twenty,'  is  re 
tained  in  epeiKoai,,  that  of  Fayvvfii,,  '  to  break,'  in  erdyrj,  '  was 
broken,'  that  of  WX-Tro/zat,  '  to  hope,'  in  FeFO\7ra,  '  I  hope/ 
that  of  FiSetz/,  'to  see,'  in  'Arl8r}^  'unseen  god,  Hades,'  that 
-of  Fr)8v$,  *  sweet,'  in  yueTu/^S?;?,  fieXcF^B^a  polvov,  '  honey  sweet 
wine.'  He  rejects  all  combinations  of  digamma  with  another 
consonant.  Thus  Srfv,  '  long,'  which  in  numerous  passages 
has  the  appearance  of  beginning  with  two  consonants,  and 
has  been  supposed  by  many  to  have  the  digamma-souncl  after 
the  8  (8Fi')v),  is  by  Bekker  always  written  with  a  simple  8. 
In  8ec8ia,  '  I  fear,'  many,  since  Buttmann,  have  recognized  a 
Homeric  Se^Fta  ;  in  e'SSetera,  *  I  feared,'  a  Homeric  eSfeiaa  :  but 
Bekker  always  writes  them  according  to  the  traditional  way, 
only  omitting  one  8  from  eSSeio-a.  Nor  does  he  recognize  any 
lost  letters  beside  digamma.  Curtius,  in  the  second  part  of 
his  Principles  of  Greek  Etymology,  has  endeavored  to  show 
that  a  consonants-sound  has  in  some  instances  given  rise  to 
the  same  appearances  in  the  Homeric  verse  as  those  oc 
casioned  by  the  v-  or  w  sound  (the  digamma).  But  the  words 
which  are  thus  supposed  to  show  traces  of  initial  y  Bekker 
either  writes  with  digamma,  or  leaves  them  with  a  vowel-ini 
tial.  We  shall  refer  again  to  this  point  before  closing. 

We  have  said  that,  in  determining  what  words  had  initial 
digamma  in  the  Homeric  language,  our  editor  relies  mainly  on 
the  indications  of  the  Homeric  verse.  Having  satisfied  him- 


BEKKEFS  DIGAMMA  TED  HOMER.  6  1 

self  in  the  case  of  any  particular  word  that  it  did  have  the  di- 
gamma,  he  proceeds  to  write  the  word,  as  also  its  derivatives 
and  compounds,  with  that  character  :  and  this  he  does,  not 
only  where  metrical  reasons  favor  or  require  the  introduction 
of  a  consonant,  but  wherever  metrical  reasons  do  not  abso 
lutely  forbid  the  introduction  of  a  consonant.  In  very  many 
instances  where  the  verse  as  we  have  it  in  our  traditional  text 
will  not  allow  the  digamma  to  come  in,  the  difficulty  can  be 
removed  by  changes  of  the  text  which  are  more  or  less  obvi 
ous.  Bekker's  principle,  it  is  evident,  has  been  to  write  the 
word  with  digamma,  whenever  this  is  consistent  with  the 
verse  as  it  stands  in  the  ordinary  text,  or  can  be  made  so  con 
sistent  by  some  slight  and  easy  change  of  reading.  He  shows 
his  judgment  and  moderation  as  a  critic  by  refusing  (at  least, 
in  general,  with  only  rare  exceptions)  to  make  any  consider 
able  or  arbitrary  change  of  reading  for  the  sake  of  getting  in 
his  digamma.  Rather  than  do  this,  he  will  allow  the  word  to 
appear  in  a  particular  case  without  the  initial  consonant  which 
usually  belongs  to  it.  I  may  illustrate  his  mode  of  procedure 
by  a  more  particular  statement  of  what  he  has  done  in  the 
first  book  of  the  Iliad.  In  the  611  lines  of  which  it  consists, 
there  are  found,  if  I  have  counted  right,  162  which  show  the 
digamma.  But  some  of  these  contain  it  more  than  once,  so 
that  184  words  are  written  with  this  character.  In  36  of  these, 
it  is  found,  not  at  the  absolute  beginning  of  the  word,  but 
after  a  preposition  or  other  prefix.  Of  the  184  words  there 
are  only  31,  or  about  a  sixth,  in  which  the  introduction  of  the 
diagamma  has  required  any  further  change  of  text  ;  and  in  18* 
of  these  31,  the  only  change  required  has  been  the  omission 
of  a  movable  v  from  the  end  of  a  preceding  word.  Thus  in 
verses  —  • 

14.    crrf/xjotar'  e^cov  eV  ^epcrtv  €Kr)j36\ov   A.7r6\\o)vo<s.      B.   ^epcrt  Fe/c. 

96.    TOVVZK   ap'  aXye'  e'SwKev  e/<7^/3o/Vos  r/S'  ert  Scocret.  e'ScoKe  Fe/c. 

294.    et  Sqtroi  TTO.V  tpyov  V7rei£o//,ai,  orrt 


KZV 


In  8  instances,  a  slight  change  has  been  made  in  the  gram 
matical  form  of  the  preceding  word,  though  in  2  out  of  the  8 
the  change  was  not  necessary  in  order  to  the  introduction  of 
the  digamma.  The  other  six  are  as  follows  :  — 


BEKKEFS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 


vna 


21.    d£ojaeroi  Aios  t'tov  ei<r)/3<)\ov  'ATroAAwra.  P>.    via 
230.    8tup'  a.Troa.ipe'icrOaL,  os  ns  crtOev  avriov  tiTry. 

288.    Tra^TWT/  ^tev  Kpareetv  e$eA.ei,  Travrecrcrt  8'  di/dcnreiv.  TTMTLV  oe  Fav. 

365.    olcrOa'  Tit]  rot  raOr'  etSm'ry  TraVr   dyopcixo.  ravra  Fiovirj. 

482.    are/'p?7  Trop^upeov  yiteyaA.*  ta^e  r^os  tovcnys.  /xeya 

576.    I(r6\.rjs  ecrcrerat  ^Sos,  eTret  ru.  ^cpetoi^a  vi/<a.  eVrrat 


In  three  instances  a  particle  which  seemed  unnecessary  has 
been  omitted  to  make  room  for  the  digamma  :  — 

64.    05  K'  €/,'TTOI  ort  rocrcrov  e^wcraro  ^ot)8os  'A/roXXooi/.      13.    o?  FetTri^. 
548.    cure  ^€(7)7/  Trporepos  rovy   etcrcrat  oirr'  dr^peoTrcov.  TW  Fetcr. 

582.    a/\A.a  cru  rovy'  e/reeo-crt  KaOaTrrtcrOai  /xttA.aKotcrtv.  TOV  FCTT. 

In  two  instances  one  particle  has  been  substituted  for  an 
other  :— 


19.    eKTre'porai  Hpta/toto  TroXtv  €t!  8'  oiVaS'  tKecr^at.  B.    Kal  Fot/caS*. 

395-    ^y  eVret  wi/?ycra«;  KpaSr^v  Aios  ?ye  /cat  epyw.  ^e  Tt  Fep/\w. 

I  do  not  find  in  thq  first  book  any  instance  in  which  words 
are  transposed  for  the  sake  of  bringing  in  the  digamma.  I  will 
add  one  or  two  instances  from  other  parts  of  the  poems  :— 

X.  341.  /u.€cr<r>7yus  Kp^rr/pos  tSe  Opovov  dpyvpor/Aov.    B.  Kp-^Tr}pos  /xecro-^yu  FtSe. 
^.  37°-  coraorav  ev  St^poujt  *  7nrracr<je  8e  6*v/xos  cKacrrov. 

8'  eTrdracrcre  Fe/c. 


There  are  several  instances  in  the  first  book  where  a  word 
usually  digammated  is  compelled  by  stress  of  metre  to  forego 
this  addition.  The  lines  which  I  have  noted  are  — 

216.  xpry  IATJV  o-(£a/irepov  ye,  $ea,  FeVos  etpt'cro-acr^at.  not  Feipvcrcracr^cu. 

239.  Trpos  Atos  etpmrai'    o  8e  TOI  /xe'ya?  to-crerat  opKOS.  Fetpvarai. 

294.  et  8^  aot  TTtti/  epyov  V7rei^o/xat,  OTTI  Ke  FetV^?.  VTT(,F€t£o/>tat. 

438.  CK  8'  eKaro/x/3^1/  fir/crav  eK7y/5o/\a)  'A7roAA'»vi,  FeKfjfioXia. 

555-  v^v  ^'  a^^5  8et'8otKa  Kara  c/>peVa  /xi^  ere 


My  search  was  a  hasty  one.       It  is  most  likely  that  careful 
looking  would  bring  out  a  few  more  cases  of  this  kind. 


BEKKER'S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER.  63 

Before  proceeding  to  notice  and  criticise  the  treatment  of 
particular  words,  there  are  two  remarks  of  a  general  nature 
which  it  seems  important  to  premise.  They  relate  to  the  evi 
dence  in  favor  of  a  digamma,  and  the  evidence  against  a 
digamma,  in  the  case  of  any  particular  word. 

First,  as  to  the  evidence  in  favor,  it  must  always  be  borne 
in  mind  that  there  are  cases  in  which  hiatus  was  more  or  less 
freely  allowed  in  the  epic  verse,  so  that  hiatus  occurring  in 
such  cases  furnishes  little,  if  any,  presumption  for  an  initial 
digamma.  In  my  Grammar  (67  D)  are  mentioned  three 
cases  of  this  kind:  I.  when  the'  first  of  two  words  ends  in  'a 
close  vowel  (i,  v),  and  seldom  or  never  suffers  elision  :  this 
applies  especially  to  the  dative  singular  of  the  third  declen 
sion,  as  TraiSl  oiracrcre  ;  2.  when  the  two  words  are  separated 
by  a  clearly  required  mark  of  punctuation,  as  fcdOrjao,  e/ny>  S' 
eTTiTreiOeo  jjivOw  ;  3.  (the  most  important  case)  when  the  vowels 
which  make  hiatus  are  two  short  syllables  of  the  third  foot,  or, 
in  other  words,  at  the  feminine  caesura  of  the  third  foot,  as 
TWV  ol  ef  eyevovro  em  fjueydpoicrL  jeveOXr/.  In  this  place  it  has 
been  proved  that  hiatus  is  allowed  with  much  the  same  free 
dom  as  at  the  end  of  a  verse.  There  is  another  case  which 
ought  to  be  added  to  these  three  —  a  case  in  which  hiatus  is 
easily  excused,  if  not  freely  allowed  —  and  that  is,  after  a  long 
vowel  or  diphthong  in  arsis,  and  particularly  the  arsis  of  the 
third  or  the  fifth  foot.  The  first  line  of  the  Iliad  is  an  instance 
in  point  :  —  • 

I.    /tvjvLv  aeiSe,  Otd,  n^X^taSecL)  'A^i/Y^cs. 

which  shows  hiatus  after  the  arsis  of  the  fifth  foot  :   after  the 
arsis  of  the  third,  we  find  it  in  A.— 

24.    d/VA.'  OVK  'ArpetSr;  'Aya/xe/xvovt  r/i/Save  Ov/Jiw. 
42.   Ticreittv  Aayaot  e/xa  Sd/cpua  croicn 


Here  also,  after  the  long  arsis  of  the  third  foot,  as  well  as  in 
the  feminine  caesura  of  that  foot,  we  find  something  of  the 
same  freedom  as  at  the  end  of  a  verse.  This  appears  in  such 
lines  as  A.  — 

153.    otvpo  fjLa^rjcrop.€vos^  €7ret  ov  n  /JLOL  airtot 


64  BEKKERS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

where  o?,  the  last  syallable  of  /^a^cro/xero?,  stands  in  the 
third  arsis  before  eVet',  which  certainly  did  not  begin  with 
digamma. 

The   other  remark  relates  to  the  negative    evidence,  that 
which   goes   to   disprove  a  digamma.      It  is  well  known  that, 
for  every  digammated  word,  even  the  best  ascertained,  there 
is  some  evidence  of  this  character  :   there  are  some  passages 
in  the  poems  as  we  have  them,  in  which  the  digamma  cannot 
be  written  without  violating  the  metre.      It  is  obviously  desir 
able  that  we  should  have  some  idea  as  to  the  range  of  these 
exceptional  cases,  their  numerical  ratio  to  the  whole  number 
of  passages  in  which  the  word  occurs.      On  this  subject  there 
are  some  good  remarks  in  Kuhn's  Zeitschrift,  x.  60  ff . ,  in  an 
article  by  H.  L.  Ahrens  on  e/cacrro?,  one   of  the  words  which 
Bekker  has  digammated.     Ahrens  enumerates  all  the  instan 
ces,  110  in  number,  where  this  word  occurs  in  the  Iliad,  and 
states  that  there  are  44  of  these  in  which  the  digamma  could 
not  be  written  into  the  traditional  text  without  a  violation  of 
metre.      But   as    16   of   the    44    can   be   made    to    admit   the 
digamma  by  simply  dropping  a  movable  v  from  the  preceding 
word,  they  are  left  out  of  the  count,  which  reduces  the  un- 
conformable  cases  to  28  in  110,  or  about  25  per  cent.     This 
ratio,  Ahrens  says,  is  so  large  as  to  throw  discredit  on  the  ini 
tial    digamma.     To    prove    it    so,    he    takes    the   word   ava% 
(originally  Famf),  '  king,'  which  he  finds  to  occur   151   times 
in    the    Iliad.      Here,   setting  aside,    as   before,    the  cases  in 
which  only  a  movable  v  stands  in  the  way  of  the  digamma,  he 
makes  1 1  out  of  151  to  be  the  number  of  unconformable  cases, 
or  about  7-^  per  cent.      He  then  proceeds  to  say  that  as  to 
other  words  which  have  an  unquestionable  digamma,  as  epyov, 
ISelv,   ol/cos,   ot^o?,   etc. ,    any   one   may  satisfy  himself  by  his 
own  observation  that  the  percentage  of  unconformable  cases 
is  not  larger,  that  it  is  rather  smaller,  than  for  ava%.     It  could 
not  justly  be  inferred  from  these  observations  of  Ahrens  that 
no  words  had   the  digamma  in   Homer  for  which  the  uncon 
formable  cases  exceed  7  or  8  per  cent.  ;  but  only  that  in  such 
words  the  digamma  must  be  regarded  as  more  or  less  doubt 
ful,  and,  if  the  proportion  is  very  much  greater,  as  improb 
able.      It  is  also  evident  that  the  weight  to  be  given  to  this 


BEKKEFS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER.  65 

test  will  depend  somewhat  on  the  absolute  number  of  instan 
ces  in  which  a  word  is  found.  If  the  word  occurs  but  seldom, 
the  ratio  of  conformable  and  unconformable  cases  may  be  in 
a  measure  accidental ;  but  the  influence  of  accident  dimin 
ishes  as  the  numbers  we  are  dealing  with  increase. 

We  come  now  to  some  criticism  of  particular  words,  as 
written  by  Bekker  with  or  without  digamma.  All  the  words 
which  have  been  generally  agreed  upon  as  showing  evidence 
of  this  initial  receive  it  here.  The  list  of  digammated  words 
given  in  my  Grammar  (23  D)  was  not  designed  to  be  complete, 
but  only  to  include  the  most  important  roots  in  which  traces 
of  the  consonant-initial  have  been  generally  recognized.  It 
contains  about  33  distinct  roots  ;  and  in  all  these,  without  ex 
ception,  Bekker  has  admitted  the  digamma.  Besides  these, 
he  admits  it  in  some  2O  or  30  more,  for  I  have  not  been  able 
yet  to  make  out  an  exact  list.  In  many  of  these  additional 
words,  the  real  existence  of  the  digamma  is  beyond  all  rea 
sonable  doubt.  This  is  true,  for  instance,  of  ero?,  '  year/ 
which  connects  itself  naturally  with  Skt.  vatsara,  'year,' 
Lat.  vctus,  '  old '  (i.e.  'full  of  years,  annosus').  Out  of  19 
Homeric  passages  which  show  the  word,  only  two  resist  the 
introduction  of  the  consonant,  and  these  allow  it  if  we  only  re 
insert  an  elided  vowel  :  thus,  rooraavr  erea  (B.  328)  may  be 
changed  to  roo-a-avra  rerea,  vroXX'  erea  (T.  255)  to  7ro\\a  rerea, 
the  last  two  vowels  of  Ferea  being  taken  as  one  syllable  by  a 
frequent  synizesis.  But,  as  might  have  been  expected,  there 
are  words  written  by  Bekker  with  digamma  in  which  there  is 
room  for  doubt  and  for  difference  of  opinion.  A  striking  in 
stance  of  this  kind  is  found  in  the  word  eXcop,  '  prey,'  which 
occurs  8  times,  with  the  connected  e\wpa  and  eXcepta,  each  of 
which  occurs  once  (the  last  in  A..  4).  In  three  of  these  10 
passages  (P.  667,  A.  4,  E.  684)  there  is  a  hiatus  before  the 
word,  but  it  is  at  the  feminine  caesura  of  the  third  foot,  where 
hiatus  has  scarcely  any  weight  in  proving  an  initial  consonant. 
In  5  passages  (E.  488,  P.  151,  7.  271,  e.  473,  w.  292),  a  v 
movable  precedes,  which  neither  hinders  us  from  assuming 
digamma,  nor  furnishes  any  proof  of  its  existence.  The  re 
maining  two  passages  give  evidence  of  an  initial  vowel.  In 
one,  IlaTpQKXoLQ  8'  eXcopa  (2..  93),  the  e  of  Be  is  elided  before 
5 


66  BEKKER' S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

eXcopa  :  in  the  other,  ^77  TTW?  aoi  e\cop  (v.  208),  the  diphthong 
of  poi  is  made  short.  In  the  first  case,  Bekker  gets  rid  of  the 
difficulty  by  reading  TlarpoKKov  8e  rekcopa  ;  in  the  second,  h'e 
yields  to  the  difficulty,  and  writes  e\cop  without  digamma. 
We  cannot  here  lay  much  stress  on  the  proportion  (20- per 
cent.)  of  unconformable  passages,  the  whole  number  being  so 
small.  But  as  digamma  is  not  required  in  any  single  passage 
of  the  10,  and  is  excluded  by  2,  it  is  certainly  hazardous  to 
assume  it  without  other  proof  of  its  existence.  Such  proof 
one  might  perhaps  find  in  its  derivation.  It  is  natural  to  take 
it  from  the  root  which  appears  in  the  second  aorist  of  aipeco, 
infin.  e\eiv,  indie.  el\ov,  where  the  augment  affords  evidence 
of  an  original  consonant  initial.  If  el\ov  is  for  e^eXov,  eXetz/ 
for  Fekeiv,  we  might  connect  them  with  Latin  vello ,  '  to  pluck.' 
But  the  2d  aor.  of  aipeco  is  never  written  with  digamma  by 
Bekker,  and  it  is  quite  clear  that  it  was  not  digammated  in 
the  Homeric  language.  It  furnishes,  therefore,  a  very  fee 
ble  presumption  for  the  digamma  of  the  substantives  ;  and  we 
cannot  but  conclude  that  it  would  have  been  the  safer  and 
wiser  course  to  leave  the  substantives  also  without  di 
gamma. 

Another  word  in  which  we  must  question  the  propriety  of 
the  digamma  that  Bekker  gives  it  is  the  deponent  verb 
epvofjicii,  '  to  watch,  guard,  preserve.'  This  verb,  in  many  of 
its  forms,  is  apparently  identical  with  epvco,  '  to  draw  ;  '  and  it 
has  been  assumed  almost  universally  that  they  come  from 
the  same  root.  Buttmann  in  his  Lexilogus  argues  the  ques 
tion  at  length,  maintaining  their  essential  identity.  Apart 
from  the  indications  of  a  digamma,  there  are'  other  reasons 
for  separating  the  two  verbs.  Thus,  as  to  form,  epvco,  '  to 
draw/  shows  ei  only  where  it  would  arise  from  augment  or 
reduplication;  while  epvofjiai,  '  to  guard,'  shows  elpva-aovrai  in 
the  future,  elpvaaaa-Oai,  in  the  aorist  infinitive,  and  other  like 
forms.  Again,  epvo/ncu,  'to  guard,'  is  sometimes  inflected  ac 
cording  to  the  /u-form,  as  in  epvro,  elpvvro,  etc.,  which  is 
never  the  case  with  epvco,  '  to  draw/  And  yet  again,  with 
epvo^ai,  '  to  guard,'  there  is  a  verb  pvofjLai,,  with  initial  p,  which 
has  the  same  meaning  :  with  epvco,  t  to  draw,'  there  is  no  such 
side-form.  Of  these  points  of  difference,  Buttmann  does  not 


BEKKERS  DIGAMMA  TED  HOMER.  67 

notice  the  first  two  :  as  to  the  last,  he  says  with  much  force 
that  the  substantive  pvrr)p,  '  pole  of  a  wagon  (drawer) '  gives 
proof  of  a  verb  pvw  =  epvw,  '  to  draw.'  If  we  turn  from  the  form 
to  consider  the  meaning  of  these  verbs,  we  find  something 
of  a  step  from  '  drawing  '  to  '  watching/  Buttmann,  however, 
bridges  over  the  gulf:  from  '  drawing  to  one's  self  (the  proper 
sense  of  the  middle  form)  comes  the  idea  of  '  rescuing  ; '  from 
'  rescuing '  that  of '  guarding  : '  from  '  guarding '  that  of  '  watch 
ing  '  and  even  of  *  watching  against.'  The  development  is  cer 
tainly  possible,  and,  if  it  stopped  at  the  point  of  'rescuing,'  we 
might  regard  it  as  probable  :  but  from  'rescuing'  to  'watching 
against,  watching  to  injure,'  there  is  still  along  journey,  which 
we  cannot  assume  without  hesitation.  But  these  reasons  for 
separating  the  words  gain  almost  irresistible  confirmation 
from  a  circumstance  which  Buttmann  has  not  noticed — viz., 
that  the  indications  of  the  Homeric  verse  show  very  clearly 
that  e'pvco,  '  to  draw,'  began  with  a  consonant,  and  almost  as 
clearly  that  epvop.ai^  '  to  guard,'  began  with  a  vowel.  I  have 
collected  the  Homeric  passages  which  show  middle  forms  of 
epvco,  '  to  draw  :'  I  find  60  in  all,  many  of  which  give  strong 
proof  of  an  initial  consonant,  while  only  3  (/.  <?.  5  per  cent, 
of  the  whole  number)  oppose  its  introduction.  Of  the  de 
ponent  epvofjiat,  I  find  43  instances  in  all,  among  which  23,  or 
more  than  half,  resist  the  introduction  of  a  digamma.  Forms 
which  begin  with  e  followed  by  pp  I  of  course  do  not  reckon, 
as  they  obviously  belong  to  pvoftcu,  not  epvo^ai,.  It  might  be 
said,  however,  that  some  forms  in  which  e  is  followed  by 
single  p,  such  as  epvro,  'was  guarding,'  epvcro-aro,  'guarded,' 
could  also  be  taken  from  pvopat,,  the  p  being  left  single  after 
the  augment,  as  often  happens  in  the  aorist  of  />ef&>,  '  to  do.' 
Assuming  this,  we  shall  have  in  all  29  instances  of  epvofjiai,  of 
which  12,  or  more  than  40  per  cent.,  will  resist  the  introduc 
tion  of  digamma.  Again,  it  might  be  said  that  such  a  form 
as  elpvo-aaro  is  to  be  explained  from  eFepvaro-aro,  by  omission 
of  digamma  and  contraction  of  the  vowels,  so  that  we  could 
not  expect  to  see  in  elpvaa-aro  the  digamma  which  belongs 
to  the  verb-root.  If  we  admit  the  justice  of  this  reasoning, 
we  shall  still  further  reduce  the  number  of  instances  to  be 
considered,  bringing  them  down  to  19  ;  of  which,  however, 


68  BEKKER  S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

9,  or  nearly  half,  will  still  oppose  the  digamma.  It  is  possi 
ble  that  two  or  three  of  the  cases  which  I  have  regarded  as 
middle  forms  of  epiw  might  be  assigned  to  epvopai,  in  the 
sense  of  'rescuing  ;'  but  if  we  should  transfer  them  accordingly, 
this  would  not  materially  affect  the  numerical  relations  just 
exhibited.  Observe,  then,  that  in  the  middle  of  epra)  only 
one  twentieth  of  the  instances  resist  the  insertion  of  digamma, 
while  in  epvopai,  '  to  guard,'  nearly  or  quite  half  of  them  resist 
it.  This  is  a  very  great  difference,  and  cannot  possibly  be 
imputed  to  accident.  I  hold,  therefore,  that  Ahrens  is  fully 
justified  in  separating  the  two  words,  as  he  has  done  in  his 
Grammar  of  1852  ;  and  I  regard  as  highly  probable  his  con 
jecture  that  €pvo/j,ai  began  originally  with  cr  (compare  the 
Greek  a  conjunctive,  which  was  originally  sa),  and  that  it  is 
connected  with  Latin  servo.  The  primitive  sense  may  have 
been  that  of  '  watching/  which  we  see  in  the  compound  ob- 
scrvo,  and  from  which  we  readily  derive  the  ideas  of  'guarding' 
and  '  preserving.'  But  whether  it  once  began  with  a  or  not, 
we  must  in  any  case  disapprove  the  procedure  of  Bekker  in 
writing  it,  wherever  he  can,  with  digamma.  There  are  in 
fact  only  4  places  out  of  more  than  40  which  give  any  sign  of 
an  initial  consonant.  Two  of  these  are  in  the  23d  book  of 
the  Odyssey  (82,  229),  which  has  in  it  much  that  is  peculiar, 
while  the  others  are  in  a  line  that  occurs  twice  (i.  194,  K. 
444)  :— 

avrov  Trap  vr]i  re  ^ikveiv  teal  vr}a  epvadai. 


This  shows  another  metrical  irregularity,  the  short  i  of  vrjt' 
being  used  for  a  long  syllable.  Apparently  it  is  only  a  varia 
tion  of  the  perfectly  regular  verse  — 

avrov  Trap  vrjeacn  fjueveiv  KOI  vt)a$  epvcrdai  (£.  260,  p.  429)« 


the  two  plurals  being  changed  to  singulars,  with  little  regard 
to  metrical  exactness. 

In  speaking  of  epvofjiai,  I  have  touched  incidentally  upon 
the  question  whether  digamma  should  be  prefixed  to  the 
augmented  forms  of  digammate  verbs.  Wherever  the  aug 
ment  makes  a  syllable  by  itself,  Bekker,  no  doubt  with  cor- 


BEKKER'S  DIGAMMA  TED  HOMER.  69 

rectness,  writes  the  digamma  after  it :  thus  erdyrj,  l  was 
broken,'  from  Fdyvv/M]  eVaA/^  'was  pressed,'  from  pei\w  ; 
€F€L7rov,  1 1  said,'  tense-stem  FGITT,  from  repeir.  But  when  the 
augment  coalesces  with  the  root  in  the  same  syllable,  he  places 
digamma  at  the  beginning,  and  of  course  before  the  augment : 
thus  he  writes  relSov,  '  I  saw,'  originally  eriSov  ;  F^vaaae, 
'  was  ruling,'  originally  epavacrcre  ;  prjvSave,  '  was  pleasing,' 
originally  epavbave.  Now  the  temporal  augment  of  ijvao-cre 
must  either  have  come  from  a  stem  which  had  already  lost 
the  digamma,  or  it  must  have  arisen  from  a  stem  with  digam 
ma,  by  dropping  that  consonant  between  e  and  a,  with  con 
traction  of  these  vowels.  In  either  case,  the  augmented  form 
should  be  without  digamma,  which  could  only  appear  by  what 
must  be  regarded  as  an  improbable  transposition  :  eravaaae, 
peavaaa-e,  pijvacrcre  ;  epiSov,  pelbov,  pelSov.  It  is,  at  any  rate, 
a  transposition  which  we  should  not  accept  without  clear 
indications  in  the  Homeric  verse.  I  must  own  that  I  have 
not  looked  up  the  evidence  myself  on  this  point.  But  a 
writer  in  Jahn's  JalirbucJier  (Ixxxi.  68 1),  Heinrich  Rumpf, 
professes  to  have  done  so.  He  says,  at  least,  that  he  has 
looked  at  all  the  2d  aorist  forms  of  the  root  iS  which  by  the 
augment  begin  with  ei,  also  at  the  forms  of  dvaao-co,  avbdvw, 
and  ayvv/j,i,  which  by  the  augment  begin  with  77.  The  num 
ber  of  these,  taken  together,  would  be  about  60,  and  there 
are  6  of  them  (-v/r.  392,  7.  305,  i.  182,  K.  373,  X.  162,  r.  539) 
which  resist  an  initial  digamma.  The  proportion  here  is  not 
decisive.  But  it  is  more  important  that  he  finds  not  a  single 
case  which  requires  digamma,  and  only  one  which  on  Bekker's 
principles  can  be  regarded  as  yielding  it  any  particular  sup 
port.  We  must  conclude,  then,  that  there  is  no  sufficient 
warrant  for  Bekker's  writing  of  these  forms. 

In  this  connection  I  may  speak  of  the  form  TJLKTO,  a  pluper 
fect  middle  of  the  stem  IK  or  eirc.  It  occurs  four  times  in  the 
Odyssey  in  the  expression  Se/ms  8'  TJLKTO  yvvai/ci,  which  does 
not  allow  an  initial  digamma.  "Hi/cro  is  most  naturally  ex 
plained  as  being  equivalent  to  epepiKro,  the  first  e  being  the 
augment  of  the  pluperfect,  which  after  the  loss  of  digamma  is 
contracted  with  the  e  of  the  reduplication  :  eperiKTo,  eet'/rro, 
r/t/cro,  like  epavacrae,  eavaaae,  ijvacrcre.  Now  it  is  remarkable 


70  BEKKER  S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

that  the  form  e'i/cro,  with  e  instead  of  77,  occurs  once,  in  i|r.  107 
— /cat  fjioi  Gfcacrr  eVereXXei/  •  ei'/cro  Se  0ea-/ce\ov  avra).  This  form 
is  naturally  explained  as  being  for  Fepucro,  with  the  reduplica 
tion,  but  without  the  augment,  of  the  pluperfect.  It  will  be 
seen  that  the  passage  allows,  though  it  does  not  require,  an 
initial  digamma.  Bekker  writes  it  without  ;  in  our  judgment 
he  should  have  inserted  it :  thus,  KCLI  fjLOi  eicaa-T  eVereXXe  • 
F6FLKTO  Se  OeaiceKov  avra). 

If  we  have  complained  of  Bekker  for  prefixing  digamma  to 
the  augmented  forms  of  digammate  verbs,  we  have  to  com 
plain  of  him  for  omitting  digamma  in  some  instances  from 
their  reduplicated  forms.  The  word  just  mentioned,  in  which 
he  writes  eFt/cro,  not  reft/cro,  is  a  case  in  point.  Another  is 
seen  in  %.  348  :— 

iravTolas  evefyvorev  •  €FOi/ca  Be  TOL  Trapaeibeiv. 

On  first  looking  at  this,  I  thought  that  perhaps  the  pause 
(colon)  before  eoi/ca  might  have  had  something  to  do  with 
Bckkcr's  retention  of  the  preceding  v  movable.  But  I  found 
afterwards  a  passage  (I.  70),  which  in  this  respect  is  exactly 
similar,  but  is  differently  treated  by  Bekker  :— 

Satvu  Salra  yepovcri  •   F€FOi/ce  TOL,  ov  TOL  aFGt,K€$, 

This  inconsistency,  I  suspect,  must  be  the  result  of  inadver 
tence.  In  all  other  cases,  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  Bekker 
writes  the  perfect  and  pluperfect  active  of  this  verb  with  di 
gamma,  where  the  verse  allows  it.  The  number  of  instances 
is  very  large — 125,  if  I  have  counted  right — and  the  uncon- 
formable  cases  only  10,  or  about  8  per  cent.  The  perfect  of 
av^avw  (root  FO&)  occurs  but  twice  (I.  173,  a.  422).  Bekker 
both  times  writes  TTCLCTIV  eraBora.  We  hold  that  he  should 
have  written  TTCLO-L  F€FaB6ra  :  the  presumption  is  that  the  di 
gamma  was  regularly  repeated  in  the  reduplication,  as  Bek 
ker  gives  it  in  F&FOiica.  The  perfect  middle  of  ei\co  (root  F€\) 
occurs  four  times,  twice  after  v  movable,  and  twice  after  a 
hiatus,  which  however  is  at  the  feminine  caesura  of  the  third 
root.  Bekker  everywhere  writes  eVe'A/^e&i,  eVeXyaez'o?  :  we  hold, 
as  before,  that  he  should  have  written  FeFe\fJie6a,  F6F€\/Aeves. 
The  next  case  to  be  considered — that  of  eKTro^ai  (root  F€\TT), 


BEKKERS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER.  *J\ 

'  to  hope ' — is  attended  with  more  difficulty.  The  perfect 
eo\7ra  and  pluperfect  ea^ireiv  occur  twelve  times  in  all  :  3 
times  with  hiatus,  4  times  with  v  movable  before  them  :  there 
fore'/  times  where  digamma  is  admissible;  leaving  5  cases 
which  resist  it.  This  large  proportion  of  unconformable  cases 
might  make  us  doubt  whether  we  ought  to  recognize  digamma 
at  all  in  these  forms.  But  the  F  of  the  root  is  unquestionable, 
and  gives  a  strong  presumption  for  F  in  the  reduplication. 
And  besides,  the  three  cases  of  hiatus  occur  in  a  part  of  the 
verse  (at  fern.  caes.  of  2d  foot)  where  hiatus  is  inadmissible. 
We  hold,  therefore,  that  there  is  sufficient  evidence  of  Ho 
meric  F6Fo\7ra  and  F€F(*)\7r€iv  (or  F€FO\7reiv),  and  that  these 
forms  should  have  been  given,  according  to  Bekker's  princi 
ple,  wherever  the  verse  allows  them.  He  has  in  fact  given 
them  only  in  the  3  cases  of  hiatus,  while  in  the  4  of  v  movable 
he  retains  that  letter,  and  writes  eVoA/Tra,  €Fco\7rei,i>  ;  thus  con 
travening  both  his  general  method  and  his  procedure  in  the 
parallel  case  of  eoiica,  ewiceiv.  In  eopya,  dapyeiv,  we  find  very 
much  the  same  state  of  things — 12  passages  in  all,  of  which  5 
resist  digamma.  The  v  movable,  however,  occurs  here  in  only 
one  case  (f.  289)  :— 

Tp<w/eT?79,  05  S?)  7ro\\a  Kate  dvOpcoTrotcriv  eaypyei. 

Here,  from  the  analogy  of  his  procedure  in  reference  to 
€(i>\7rei,v,  we  may  presume  that  Bekker  would  have  written 
dvOpMTTOicnv  epcopyeiv,  if  he  had  not  followed  Voss  in  making  a 
greater  change,  altering  the  dative  to  an  accusative,  in  ac 
cordance  with  the  usual  construction  of  the  verb,  making 
dv6p(*)7rovs  elFO)p<y€iv.  It  might  be  questioned,  however, 
whether  we  ought  not  in  this  case  to  have  rjFopyeiv  for 
€F€Fop<yeiv,  in  the  same  manner  as  TJFLKTO  for  CFCFLKTO.  In 
the  perfect  middle  of  epya)  (root  Fepy),  'to  shut,'  we  find  a 
different  state  of  things.  Here  we  have  ep^arai,  and  ep^aro 
occurring  7  times.  They  are  evidently  forms  without  redu 
plication,  like  olSa,  'I  know'  (i.  <?.  FolSa,  not  F6Foi$a), 
elfiai,  '  am  clothed'  (i.  £.  Fea^ai,  not  FeFeor^aL)  ;  and,  in 
stems  beginning  with  other  letters,  Se^arat,  'have  received' 
(for  SeSe^arat),  avwya,  'I  command'  (for  tfvtoya).  Hence, 
when  we  find  eepy^evai  and  eep^aro  occurring  each  of  them 


72  BEKKERS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

once,  we  must  presume  that  the  first  e  is  not  part  of  a  redu 
plication,  but  the  same  common  prefix  which  we  find,  for 
instance,  in  eeXSo//,at  (i.  £.  eF€\$ofj,at)  for  Fe^o/mai,  'to  wish,' 
and  the  aorist  participle  eeio-dfievos  (i.  c.  e^etcra/ae^o?) ,  'hav 
ing  likened  one's-self.'  We  shall  not  then  be  surprised  to  see 
that  erepry/jievat,  and  erep-^aro  do  not  admit  initial  digamma. 
We  come  now  to  consider  the  question  whether  our  editor 
does  right  in  recognizing  only  one  lost  consonant,  the  di 
gamma,  or  whether  he  should  not  have  recognized  others  as 
producing  similar  appearances  in  the  Homeric  verse.  Cur- 
tius,  in  the  concluding  part  of  his  Principles  of  Greek  Ety 
mology,  maintains  in  the  case  of  several  words  that  the  epic 
hiatus  was  occasioned  by  a  consonant  j/-sound.  He  holds 
this  to  be  true  in  reference  to  eoi/ca,  ecpfceiv,  which  we  have 
just  considered.  He  remarks  that  dialects  and  inscriptions 
give  no  evidence  of  digamma  in  this  word  ;  'that  no  root  vik 
in  the  sense  of  '  likeness '  is  to  be  found  in  the  cognate  lan 
guages  ;  and  that  it  is  therefore  very  hazardous  to  write 
FeFOitca,  FeFoo/ceiv,  in  the  text  of  Homer.  He  observes  that 
there  are  clear  traces  in  Herodotus  and  elsewhere  of  a  word 
Se/#??Xos  or  Set/eeXo?  having  the  sense  of  (e)ftfeXo?,  '  like,  simi 
lar.'  He  is  therefore  led  to  adopt  the  conjecture  of  Bopp, 
that  the  root  of  eoi/ca  is  formed  from  that  of  BeiicvvfJLi,  Lat. 
dico,  Skt.  dig  (i.  e.  dik),  '  to  show.'  He  conceives  that  the 
B  assumed  a  parasitic  j,  and  then  dropped  away  itself — thus, 
dikt  dyik,  yik — and  that  from  yik  thus  formed  came  by  redu 
plication  yeyoiKa,  yeywiceiv.  I  cannot  think  that  there  is  much 
plausibility  in  this  explanation.  If  the  transition  from  dik  to 
yik  was  made  in  the  formative  Indo-European  period,  we 
might  expect  to  find  a  root  yik  having  the  sense  of  '  likeness  ' 
somewhere  in  the  cognate  languages,  which  Curtius  does  not 
pretend  is  the  fact.  It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  he  regards 
the  evolution  of  yik  from  dik  as  taking  place  in  the  Greek, 
after  the  Indo-European  time.  We  must  think,  then,  of  the 
root  dik  as  already  provided  with  inflection,  making  a  redu 
plicated  preterite  SeSoi/ca,  from  which  would  come  first,  by 
adding  y  to  both  S's,  SyeSyoi/ca,  and  then,  by  dropping  both 
the  S's,  yeyoiica.  But  the  change  from  8  to  y  is  confessedly  a 
rare  one  in  the  Greek  language  ;  how  hazardous  then  to  as- 


BEKKEKS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER.  73 

sume  that  it  has  occurred  twice  in  the  same  form  !  It  might 
perhaps  be  said  that  the  change  occurred  first  in  some  such 
form  as  $uce\os,  meaning  'like,'  which  passed  into  yuce\os ; 
that  this  gave  the  suggestion  of  a  root  jn/c,  meaning  '  to  be 
like,'  and  that  yeyoucd  was  formed  independently  from  this 
suggested  root,  and  not  by  phonetic  change  from  a  pre-ex 
isting  SeSoifca.  This  is  indeed  possible  :  but  we  should 
scarcely  expect  that  a  root  arising  at  this  comparatively  late 
stage  of  linguistic  development  would  take  the  more  primitive 
formation  seen  in  eouca,  with  its  interchange  of  L/C,  eac,  one. 
For  such  reasons,  the  rise  of  eouca  from  a  rookdik  seems  to  me 
scarcely  more  than  a  possibility.  It  must  be  observed,  too, 
that  unless  the  connection  of  eouca  with  a  root  dik  is  rendered 
probable,  there  is  no  more  reason  for  writing  it  with  y  than 
with  F.  And  if  no  more  reason,  we  may  justly  say  that  there 
is  less  reason  for  y  than  for  F,  because  the  very  regularity  with 
which  this  word  in  the  Homeric  text  gives  evidence  of  a  con 
sonant  initial  is  a  circumstance  in  favor  of  F.  In  this  respect 
it  ranks,  as  we  have  seen,  among  the  most  regular  words,  the 
unconformable  cases  being  only  10  in  126,  or  about  8  per 
cent.  If  we  consider  how  much  earlier  and  more  complete 
was  the  disappearance  of  y  from  the  language  when  com 
pared  with  that  of  F,  we  shall  be  slow  to  believe  that  the 
former  should  maintain  itself  in  the  Homeric  verse  with  the 
same  constancy  as  the  latter. 

Another  case  in  which  Curtius  recognizes  traces  of  an 
initial  y  in  Homer  is  the  deponent  tefjuai,,  '  to  be  eager,  to  de 
sire,  to  long.'  It  occurs  in6i  instances,  of  which  22  by  hiatus 
give  evidence  of  a  consonant  initial,  and  the  unconformable 
cases  are  only  3,  or  about  5  per  cent.  Bekker  writes  it  with 
digamma.  To  this  Curtius  objects,  asserting  that  the  verb 
flr)[LL  is  a  reduplicated  form  of  the  root  yd,  which  appears  in 
Sanskrit,  and  is  itself  an  extended  form  of  the  root  /,  '  to  go.' 
Thus  lt]iJbi=yi-yd-mi)  '  to  cause  to  go,  to  send.'  In  the  middle 
this  would  mean  'to  send  one's  self,'  and  hence  '  to  hasten,  to 
pursue  eagerly,  to  aim  at,  to  long  for.'  To  this  no  objection 
can  be  made  as  regards  the  meaning.  But  it  is  a  remarkable 
circumstance  that  t'^/u,  '  to  send,'  shows  no  traces  in  Homer 
of  anything  but  a  vowel  initial.  Of  simple  forms  in  the  pre- 


74  BEKKER'S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

sent  and  imperfect — these  I  take  for  comparison  because 
terete,  '  to  desire,'  is  confined  to  those  tenses — I  find  in  the 
sense  of  '  sending '  29  (all  active  except  A.  77,  M.  274,  ^.  304, 
which  show  the  middle  or  passive)  ;  and  of  this  29,  not  less 
than  24,  or  more  than  80  per  cent.,  refuse  to  admit  a  conso 
nant  initial.  Compound  forms,  such  as  a^irjfjii,  yue^/^/xt,  etc., 
I  have  not  taken  into  the  account :  I  believe,  however,  that 
all  of  them  which  are  capable  of  furnishing  any  evidence  on 
the  point  testify  against  a  consonant  initial  for  the  simple 
verb.  It  may  be  regarded  as  perfectly  certain  that  vrj/M,  '  to 
send,'  was  sounded  by  Homer  with  an  initial  vowel,  and  lepai, 
'to  desire,'  with  an  initial  consonant.  We  have  here  a  dis 
tinction  of  the  same  kind  as  that  which  we  before  proved  to 
exist  between  epvay,  '  to  draw,'  and  €pvo/j,cu,  '  to  guard.' 
Now  it  might  be  said  by  one  who  maintained  the  original 
identity  of  T?7/u,  '  to  send,'  and  le/mai,  '  to  desire/  that  the  y 
which  once  belonged  to  both  alike  was  retained,  and  that  with 
uniformity,  in  the  sense  of  '  desiring,'  after  it  had  been  lost, 
and  that  with  uniformity,  in  the  sense  of  sending.'  That  this 
is  a  possibility  we  admit,  but  it  is  nothing  more.  The  pro 
bability  is  that  the  two  words  are  radically  distinct  ;  and  if 
so,  then,  for  the  same  reason  as  before,  the  ^has  more  in  its 
favor  than  the_^.  The  fact  that  later  dialects  furnish  no  sup 
port  to  it  is  of  little  significance,  as  the  deponent  te/Aai  be 
longs  only  to  the  early  language. 

The  remaining  case  in  which  Curtius  recognizes  initial  y  as 
exercising  the  power  of  a  consonant  in  the  Homeric  verse  is 
the  relative  stem,  which  appears  in  09,  ?5,  o,  o>9,  olo9,  ocro?, 
OTTO)?,  O7roto9,  o(f>pa,  ^09,  <W,  6W9,  etc.  Savelsberg,  in  the 
eighth  volume  of  Kuhn's  Zeitschrift,  has  given  a  series  of  cita 
tions  from  Homer  showing  traces  of  an  initial  consonant  for 
this  class  of  words.  Unfortunately  he  has  not  furnished 
exact  numerical  data,  by  which  we  might  see  the  comparative 
frequency  or  infrequency  of  the  phenomenon.  I  have  not 
myself  had  time  to  supply  the  deficiency.  I  have  only  run 
hastily  through  the  first  book  of  the  Iliad,  noting  all  words  which 
show  the  relative  stem — omitting,  however,  the  relative  ad 
verb  0)9,  which  in  this  respect  stands  by  itself.  The  whole 
number  of  instances  noted  was  72,  of  which  30,  or  about  42 


BEKKEKS  DIGAMMA  TED  HOMER.  7  5 

per  cent.,  testify  against  a  consonant  initial.  Of  the  remain 
ing  instances,  many  were  found  at  the  beginning  of  a  line,  or 
in  other  indecisive  positions  ;  and  in  fact  there  are  only  8,  or 
one  ninth  of  the  whole  number,  which  give  any  indication  of 
a  consonant  initial.  Even  of  these,  the  majority,  either  from 
the  part  of  the  verse  which  they  occupy,  or  from  the  pause 
which  precedes  them,  are  of  but  little  \veight :  only  2  or  3 
give  decided  indications  of  an  initial  consonant.  I  strongly 
suspect  that  a  more  extended  comparison  would  not  essen 
tially  change  the  proportions  derived  from  this  first  book. 
They  seem  barely  sufficient  to  give  plausibility  to  the  con 
jecture  that  the  relative  stem  did  once  begin  with  a  consonant, 
but  had  nearly  or  quite  lost  it  in  the  Homeric  time.  I  say 
"  nearly  or  quite  :  "  for  if  the  letter  had  wholly  died  out  from 
common  use  shortly  before  Homer's  time,  the  force  of  epic 
tradition  would  probably  have  caused  some  traces  of  it  still 
to  appear  in  his  verse.  But  the  adverb  &>?  differs  in  this  re 
spect  very  remarkably  from  the  other  forms  of  the  relative 
stem.  According  to  Bekker,  as  cited  by  Curtius,  the  in 
stances  which  indicate  a  consonant  initial  are  three  times 
more  numerous  than  those  which  indicate  a  vowel  initial.  It 
can  hardly  be  doubted  that  this  word,  as  pronounced  in  the 
Homeric  time,  began  frequently,  if  not  generally,  with  a 
consonant. 

It  must  be  owned  that  our  condition  as  regards  the  ety 
mology  of  the  Greek  relative  is  an  unsatisfactory  one.  We 
are  less  confident  and  comfortable  than  we  were  ten  years 
ago.  Then  we  had  no  hesitation  about  connecting  it  with 
the  Skt.  yas,  yd,  yat,  assuming  a  change  of  y  to  the  rough 
breathing,  as  in  fjTrap  (i.  e.  ^Trapr),  '  liver/  Skt. 'yakrt  (i.  e. 
yakart).  But  now,  if  we  do  not  surrender  this  conviction, 
our  faith  in  it  has  become  less  full  and  sure.  A  Locrian  in 
scription,  published  by  L.  Ross  in  1854,  presents  the  form 
JFOTT,  with  digamma,  for  ort.  A  digammated  form  of  the 
relative  stem  is  also  seen  in  a  gloss  of  Hesychius,  quoted  by 
Savelsberg  :  .Bo-Xt/acor^?,  <rtW(j5>?7/3o9,  Kpijres — i.e.  'for  "youth 
ful  companion  "  the  Cretans  use  /SaTu/acor???,'  (i.e.  ^aAt/aam??, 
equivalent  to  vJXt/awr?;?) .  To  these  testimonies,  Savelsberg, 
in  the  article  referred  to,  adds  the  indications  of  digamma  in 


76  BEKKER'S  DIGAMMA  TED  HOMER. 

the  Homeric  verse,  and  concludes  that  the  Greek  relative  was 
^6?,  FIJ,  FO,  or  FOS,  pa,  FOT.  These  he  supposes  to  have  been 
later  forms  of  KFOS,  KFCL,  KFOT,  Latin  qui,  quac,  quod.  He 
thus  identifies  again  the  Greek  and  Latin  relatives,  though 
in  a  very  different  way  from  that  of  the  old-fashioned  ety 
mology,  which  held  that  the  original  h  of  the  Greek  relative 
was  in  Latin  hardened  to  a  /'-sound  (</?/).  The  omission  of 
the  /'-sound  in  the  Greek  1^09  would  be  something  like  that  in 
the  Latin  nbit  undc,  for  cnbi,  cnndc,  which  remain  in  the 
compounds  sicubi,  alicunde.  The  stem  kvat  which  would 
thus  underlie  the  relatives  of  these  two  languages,  Savelsberg 
supposes  to  have  been  developed  out  of  ka,  the  stem  of  the 
Sanskrit  interrogative.  He  goes  yet  further,  and  from  the 
same  origin  derives  even  the  Sanskrit  relative  :  ya,  he  thinks, 
is  for  kya  ;  and  kya,  like  kva,  is  only  an  altered  form  of  ka. 
But  Schleicher  and  Curtius  are  not  yet  prepared  to  admit 
that  the  Greek  relative-stem  began  with  digamma,  still  less 
that  it  was  ever  kva.  The  former  touches  on  the  subject  in  his 
Compendium  of  Comparative  Grammar,  p.  180:  the  latter, 
more  at  length,  in  his  Principles  of  Greek  Etymology,  ii. 
177-8.  In  respect  to  the  FOTI  of  the  Locrian  inscription, 
they  say  that,  when  the  digamma-sound  had  nearly  vanished 
from  the  Greek  dialects,  its  sign  was  sometimes  used  improp 
erly  by  scribes  or  grammarians  for  other  spirants,  and  espe 
cially  for  the  y,  which  had  no  sign  of  its  own  even  in  the 
earliest  Greek  alphabet  ;  and  they  appeal  to  a  Corcyraean  in 
scription,  which  shows  a  genitive  singular  masculine  of  the 
first  declension  in  -AFO,  where  all  analogy  would  lead  us  to 
expect  -ayo  or  -ahyo,  Skt.  asya.  As  regards  the  Homeric 
usage,  they  say  that  the  phenomena  which  seem  to  indicate 
digamma  could  equally  well  be  produced  byjj/.  In  this  there 
is  no  intrinsic  improbability,  though  we  should  be  glad  to 
have  the  support  of  some  parallel  case  which  we  could  look 
upon  as  clear  and  certain.  The  parallels  which  Curtius 
brings  forward  are  the  verb  '(e^ai,  l  to  aim  at,  desire/  and  the 
root  of  eoi/ca  ;  neither  of  which,  as  we  have  seen,  is  much  to 
be  relied  on.  As  to  the  derivation  of  a  relative  ^09  from  KFOS 
by  omission  of  K,  Curtius  remarks  that  "  the  only  phonetic 
analogy  which  could  be  called  in  to  support  it  is  that  of  the  High 


BEKKERS  DIGAMMATED  HOMER.         77 

German  ivcr  (for  /twer)= Gothic  Jruas,  cf.  Eng.  what.  But 
the  loss  of  the  feeble  h  proves  little  for  that  of  k ;  and  how 
improbable  that  of  the  two  consonants  the  Greek  would  give 
up  the  perfectly  familiar  K.  in  favor  of  the  unstable  digamma, 
wavering  even  from  the  earliest  time  !  "  It  may  be  observed, 
in  passing,  that  Curtius'  own  derivation  of  eoi/ca  from  diky 
dyik,  yik  is  liable  to  the  same  objection  :  it  makes  the  Greek 
give  up  the  familiar  8  in  favor  of  the  unstable  and  perishing 
y.  "Still  less,"  he  continues,  "can  it  be  proved  that  Skt. 
yas  has  come  from  kyas,  and  that  ka,  with  the  secondary 
kva,  kya,  is  the  common  root  of  all  these  widely  ramified 
pronouns.  Finally,  the  demonstrative  meaning  of  the  Greek 
o?  in  real  o?  e^rj  speaks  against  this  derivation,  and  recom 
mends  the  assumption  that  the  originally  demonstrative  stem 
/,  with  the  secondary  formj/tf,  lies  at  the  basis  of  the  Greek 
relative."  As  the  demonstrative  use  in  KOI  o?  e^fyrj  is  confined 
to  the  nominative,  while  in  the  accusative  we  have  KOI  TOV,  it 
seems  to  me  quite  possible  that  the  o?  is  for  o,  by  confusion 
of  the  two  forms  o?  and  o,  so  much  alike  in  appearance, 
though  so  diverse  in  origin.  Curtius  then  adds,  as  Schlei- 
cher  also  does,  that,  if  the  Greek  relative  did  really  begin  with 
F,  it  would  be  preferable  to  explain  it  from  a  stem  sra,  which 
appears  with  relative  force  in  Gothic  svc,  '  as/  whence  the 
German  so  in  its  relative  use.  This  relative  stem  sva  was  long 
ago  recognized  in  Greek  by  Curtius  himself  (Kuhn's  Zeit- 
schrift,  iii.  75,  76),  though  only  in  the  merest  relic,  the  adverb 
<£?;,  '  as,'  which  the  Alexandrine  critic  Zenodotus  read  in  two 
passages  of  the  Iliad  (B.  144,  H.  499).  Lottner  afterwards, 
in  Kuhn's  Zeitschrift,  ix.  320,  proposed  to  derive  all  the 
forms  of  the  Greek  relative  from  this  same  stem.  But  the 
traces  of  a  digamma  in  the  Greek  relative  are  much  less  fre 
quent  and  decided  than  we  should  naturally  expect  to  find 
them  if  this  were  its  real  derivation — much  less  so  than  in  the 
forms  of  the  possessive  o?,  r/,  6V,  *  his,  her,  its,'  which  come 
from  a  stem  of  the  same  sound,  sva,  though  of  widely  different 
import.  Possibly  the  fact  which  we  have  noticed,  that  the 
adverb  o>?  differs  so  much  from  the  other  forms  of  the  relative 
in  the  indications  which  it  shows  of  a  consonant  initial,  may 
warrant  the  conjecture  that  they  are  of  different  origin — that, 


78  BEKKER'S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

in  fact,  &)?  came  from  the  digammate  stem  sva,  while  09,  oto?, 
ocro9,  and  the  rest,  are  akin  to  the  Sanskrit  yas,  yd,  yat,  and 
came  from  a  stem  with  initial  _y-sound. 

Ahrens,  in  Kuhn's  Zeitschrift,  x.  65  ff. ,  has  sought  to  show 
that  appearances  in  the  Homeric  verse  similar  to  those  pro 
duced  by  digamma  are  in  some  instances  to  be  ascribed  to  a 
lost  sigma.  An  instance  of  this  kind — in  which,  however, 
the  initial  a  is  not  lost,  but  retained  in  the  written  text — is 
presented  by  the  word  £9,  'hog.'  The  simple  form  of  this 
word  appears  in  55  passages  with  initial  <r,  as  0-1)9,  0-^09,  etc. 
It  occurs  also  in  21  passages  where  an  initial  consonant  would 
be  incompatible  with  the  metre  ;  and  in  all  these  places  the 
a  is  dropped  ;  we  have  £9,  £09,  etc.  In  the  later  language, 
both  forms  of  this  w7ord  were  in  use,  though  the  one  with 
consonant  initial  was  comparatively  rare.  If,  when  the  poems 
were  reduced  to  writing,  the  form  with  a  had  been  wholly 
lost  from  use,  it  is  probable  that  our  written  text  would  have 
shown  £9  only,  with  initial  vowel,  in  all  the  76  passages, 
though  in  many  of  them  the  metre  would  have  shown  traces  of 
a  lost  consonant.  And  it  is  quite  conceivable  that  in  other  words 
this  may  actually  have  been  the  case.  Such  an  occurrence 
Ahrens  recognizes  with  no  little  plausibility  in  the  words  v\rj, 
'wood,'  eo9  possessive,  and  e/cao-ro9,  'each.'  In  regard  to 
v\?1,  Lat.  silva,  it  is  certain  that  it  began  originally  with  a, 
and  equally  certain  that  in  Homer's  language  it  usually  began 
with  a  vowel.  But  there  are  two  cases  of  a  remarkable 
hiatus  before  the  word  (oreiero  1^X77,  H.  285,  and  eTre^evaro 
V\TJV,  e  257,  where  v\rj  in  each  forms  the  sixth  foot),  which 
seem  to  show  that  the  initial  cr  was  not  wholly  forgotten  in 
the  Homeric  time.  The  possessive  609,  in  its  relation  to  09, 
is  explained  by  Ahrens  in  a  wray  which  has  been  quite  gene 
rally  received  as  probable.  He  assumes  in  the  earlier  period 
two  forms,  a  fuller  0-6^69,  and  a  shorter  OTOS  :  from  0-6^69 
came  regularly  the  609,  from  orbs  the  09  of  our  common  text. 
This  explanation  is  supported  by  the  analogy  of  the  posses 
sive  forms  T609  and  0-09  for  the  second  person  ;  of  which,  in 
all  probability,  reo'9  is  for  T6F09,  and  0-69  for  TFO?.  Now  in  92 
instances  of  the  pronoun  €09,  there  are  52  which  do  not  allow 
an  initial  consonant,  and  it  is  therefore  certain  that  in  the 


BEKKER'S  DIGAMi 

Homeric  time  it  generally  began  ^&S£&£f^&Ji:Jfc^  there 
are  4  instances  (A.  533,  I.  420,  687,  0/524)  oiremarkable 
hiatus  in  the  first  foot,  after  the  first  short  of  a  dactyl  (Zet>9 
Se  edv,  x€Wa  *nv>  °?re  fc'9^)>  which  seem  to  present  traces  of 
the  primitive  initial  a.  And  moreover,  this  word  makes  hiatus 
14  times  in  the  feminine  caesura.  We  have  seen  that  hiatus 
is  readily  allowed  in  that  place  ;  but  its  relative  frequency 
is  so  great  in  the  case  of  this  word  (three  times  greater  than 
in  the  analogous  case  of  e'^09,  '  my ')  as  to  warrant  the  sus 
picion  that  it  arises  from  a  peculiar  cause,  and  is  connected 
with  the  primitive  initial  <r.  Bekker  writes  the  pronoun, 
wherever  he  can,  with  initial  F  :  he  appears  to  suppose  that 
from  FOS  came  ew  by  a  prefixed  e,  and  then,  by  transposi 
tion  of  digamma,  peos.  But  such  a  transposition  is  a  more 
hazardous  assumption  than  he  seems  to  think  ;  and  the  form 
reos  has  little  support,  either  in  the  Homeric  text  or  in  the 
suggestions  of  comparative  philology. 

It  remains  to  speak  of  the  pronoun  e/cao-ro^,  '  each,'  and 
the  kindred  adverb  e/cdrepde,  '  on  each  side  :  '  the  pronoun 
e/cdrepos  itself  is  incapable  of  appearing  in  the  heroic  hexa 
meter.  The  derivation  of  kfcdrepos  and  ettaa-ros  is  as  yet  far 
from  certain.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  the  -/carepos  and 
-KacrTos  are  a  comparative  and  superlative  form  from  the  in 
terrogative  stem  KCL — that  they  are,  in  fact,  identical  with  the 
interrogatives  jrorepos  and  TTOCTTO?,  which  in  their  Ionic  forms 
are  fcdrepos  and  KOCTTOS.  It  is  probable  also  that  the  first  syl 
lable  e  is  the  same  as  in  the  numeral  e/carov,  Lat.  centum,  Skt. 
catam  (i.  £.  katam).  If  so,  it  is  probably  for  ev,  the  root  of 
the  numeral  et?,  '  one  :  '  thus,  eKarov—1  ONE  hundred,'  e/cdrepos 
=  '  ONE  which-more,  one  which  of  two.'  Here  now  we  stum 
ble  again  upon  an  uncertainty  :  but  of  all  the  explanations 
proposed  for  the  numeral  et?,  ev,  the  most  probable  is  that 
which  connects  it  with  Skt.  saina,  our  Eng.  same,  Lat.  scmcl, 
simplex ,  singuli.  It  thus  appears  that  cr  may  probably  have 
been  the  primitive  initial  of  e/cdrepos,  e/caaros.  We  have' 
already  observed  that,  according  to  Ahrens's  enumeration, 
e/cacrro?  occurs  no  times  in  the  Iliad.  Now  66  of  these  are 
cases  of  hiatus,  some  of  them  easily  admissible,  but  many 
others  giving  strong  indication  of  a  consonant  initial.  It  is 


So  BEKKER'S  DIGAMMATED  HOMER. 

not  therefore  surprising  that  Bekkcr  should  have  written 
Fe/cao-ros  and  FettdrepOe  wherever  the  verse  allows  it.  Out  of 
28  unconformable  cases,  he  makes  17  conformable  by  various 
conjectures,  several  of  which  belong  to  the  most  hazardous 
that  he  has  ventured.  In  II  cases  he  has  left  the  initial 
vowel  untouched.  Here  the  proportion  of  unconformable 
cases,  25  per  cent.,  throws  suspicion  on  the  digamma,  which 
is  much  increased  by  the  fact  that  comparative  philology  has 
no  plausible  explanation  for  the  forms  pe/cdrepos,  re/cao-TOs. 
Such  forms  as  a-e/cdrepos  and  oreKacrros  are  much  more  proba 
ble  on  grounds  of  comparative  philology.  Practically,  then, 
the  case  as  to  eWcrro?  stands  in  this  way.  It  cannot  well  be 
doubted  that  the  word,  sometimes  at  least,  began  with  a  con 
sonant  in  the  Homeric  language.  If  we  assume  that  digam 
ma  is  the  only  initial  consonant  of  the  Homeric  language 
which  has  failed  to  appear  in  our  text,  then  we  must  recog 
nize  a  Homeric  Fe/cacrro^  :  such,  doubtless,  was  the  reasoning 
of  Bekkcr.  But  the  assumption  is  an  unsafe  one  :  there  is 
reason  for  suspecting  that  other  initial  consonants  of  the 
Homeric  language  have  had,  though  to  a  far  less  extent,  the 
same  fortune  as  digamma  ;  and  in  this  particular  word  there 
is  reason  for  suspecting  that  it  began  with  some  other  conso 
nant.  Yet  we  would  by  no  means  advise  either  that  the 
relative-stem  should  be  written  in  Homer  with  initial  y,  or 
that  e/cacrro?  and  eo?  should  be  written  with  initial  cr.  A  lost 
digamma  manifests  itself  in  the  Homeric  verse  in  many  words 
with  much  clearness,  and  with  considerable  approach  to  uni 
formity  :  it  may  therefore  with  propriety  be  inserted  in  an 
edition  having  the  character  and  aims  of  the  one  under  re 
view.  But  the  case  is  widely  different  with  a  lost y  and  a 
lost  a  :  these,  if  we  make  the  most  of  them,  are  only  rare 
and  doubtful. 


V. 

ON  ANCIENT  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

1864. 

RHYTHM  consists  in  a  regular  succession  of  times — of 
proportional  times — so  marked  off  and  distinguished 
that  the  proportionality  of  the  times  and  the  regularity  of 
their  succession  shall  be  obvious  to  human  sense.  These 
times  may  be  marked  by  movements  of  the  body,  as  in  danc 
ing  ;  by  tones  of  various  pitch  and  stress,  as  in  music  ;  by 
the  syllables  of  uttered  words,  as  in  poetry.  We  have  here 
the  three  principal  applications  of  rhythm,  three  principal 
domains  in  which  rhythm  manifests  its  nature  and  power — 
dancing,  music,  poetry.  They  were  recognized  as  such  by 
ancient  writers,  as  arts  which  are  all  alike  under  the  sway  of 
rhythm,  in  which  the  same  principles  of  rhythm  find  applica 
tion  and  illustration.  These  principles  do  not  require  words 
for  their  manifestation  ;  they  do  not  require  even  sounds  :  the 
silent  art  of  orchestic  has  its  arses  and  theses,  its  trochees  and 
iambi,  its  dactyls  and  anapaests,  not  less  truly  than  music  and 
poetry.  In  fact,  the  name  feet  for  rhythmic  elements,  arsis. 
(raising  of  the  foot),  thesis  (setting  down  of  the  foot),  have 
primary  reference  to  orchestic.  It  is  apparent  from  these 
remarks  that  rhythm  may  be  treated  in  two  different  ways. 
Its  principles  may  be  set  forth  in  a  general,  abstract  manner  : 
not  without  illustrations  drawn  from  the  concrete  forms  of 
dancing,  music,  or  poetry  ;  but  in  such  a  way  as  to  give 
prominence  to  those  abstract,  general  principles  which  per 
tain  alike  to  these  three  arts.  The  subject  thus  treated  is  a 
true  and  proper  rhythmic.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  a  writer 
may  take  up  one  of  the  arts  in  which  rhythm  manifests  itself, 
making  it  his  leading  aim  to  set  forth  the  forms  of  that  art  as 
they  have  been  developed  under  the  influence  of  rhythm.  If 
poetry,  for  instance,  is  subjected  to  this  process,  the  result 
will  be  a  system  of  metric.  Metric  is  a  description,  a  scienti- 
6 


82  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE, 

fie  description,  of  verse  according  to  its  rhythmical  forms. 
Ancient  literature  had  its  works  both  of  rhythmic  and  of  me 
tric,  agreeably  to  the  distinction  which  we  have  here  traced 
Those  on  metric  were  the  more  numerous,  and  have  been 
more  largely  preserved.  The  most  important  is  the  'Eyxei- 
piSiov,  or  Manual,  of  Hephsstion,  a  grammarian  who  is  sup 
posed  to  have  flourished  about  the  middle  of  the  second 
century  after  our  era.  Unfortunately  these  metrical  writers 
had  only  an  imperfect  conception  of  the  work  which  they 
were  taking  on  themselves.  In  treating  of  metric,  it  was  their 
business  to  point  out  in  a  systematic  way  everything  pertain 
ing  to  the  rhythmic  enunciation  or  delivery  of  verse  ;  so  that 
from  a  study  of  their  writings  one  might  form  a  distinct  con 
ception  of  the  way  in  which  an  ode  of  Pindar  or  a  chorus  of 
Sophocles  was  actually  intended  to  sound — I  mean,  as  regards 
its  rhythm.  To  do  this  it  was  not  enough  to  note  the  succes 
sion  of  long  and  short  syllables.  It  was  necessary  to  mark 
also  the  rhythmic  accent,  and  to  distinguish  a  heavier  accent 
from  a  lighter.  It  was  necessary  to  note  the  cases  in  which 
rhythmic  times  were  occupied  by  a  prolongation  of  long 
syllables  ;  for  we  know  that  these  were  sometimes  so  far  pro 
longed  as  to  become  equal  to  three  shorts,  four  shorts,  or  even 
five  shorts.  It  was  necessary  to  note  the  cases  in  which 
rhythmic  times  were  occupied  by  pauses — intervals  of  silence, 
like  the  rests  in  music — for  we  know  that  such  pauses  were 
frequent,  taking  the  time  of  one  short,  two  shorts,  three 
shorts,  or  even  four  shorts.  It  was  necessary  in  treating  of 
lyric  compositions,  such  as  Pindar's  Odes,  or  the  choruses  of 
the  dramatists,  in  which  the  verse  changes  from  line  to  line, 
to  point  out  the  principles  of  symmetry  and  the  laws  of  suc 
cession  by  which  these  changes  were  doubtless  regulated  and 
controlled  :  for  we  have  the  strongest  reason  to  believe  that 
here,  as  everywhere  else,  the  Greeks  exercised  their  prodi 
gious  power  of  invention  in  subordination  to  very  definite 
canons  of  taste  and  beauty.  Now  of  all  this  we  find  very 
little  in  the  ancient  writers  on  metric.  They  confine  them 
selves,  for  the  most  part,  to  noting  the  succession  of  long  and 
short  syllables.  It  is  true  that  they  have  something  to  say- 
though  in  a  quite  imperfect  and  unsatisfactory  manner — on 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  83 

rhythmic  accent,  on  thesis  and  arsis,  the  accented  and  unac 
cented  parts  of  the  foot.  But  beyond  this  they  scarcely  go. 
I  may  illustrate  their  deficiencies  by  a  single  instance.  It  is  a 
fact  that  there  were  spondees  in  which  each  syllable  had  the 
length — not  of  two  shorts,  as  usual — but  of  four.  It  is  a  fact 
known  to  us  from  other  sources ;  but  in  the  writings  on  metric 
now  extant  there  is  no  hint  of  it  whatever.  This  imperfection 
in  the  works  on  metric  is  not  hard  to  account  for.  Their 
writers  were  mere  grammarians  :  they  were  much  interested 
in  syllables,  and  their  long  and  short  quantity — but  they  had 
not  the  theoretical*  and  practical  knowledge  of  music  which 
was  indispensable  to  the  proper  execution  of  their  task.  I 
say  that  a  theoretical  and  practical  acquaintance  with  music 
was  essential  to  a  proper  treatment  of  the  ancient  metric.  It 
is  a  very  important  circumstance,  and  one  that  should  never 
be  lost  sight  of,  that  the  ancient  poetry  was  much  more  closely 
bound  up  with  music  than  the  modern.  Even  the  simplest 
kinds  of  verse,  the  epic  hexameter,  the  dramatic  trimeter, 
were  pronounced— they  were  intended  to  be  pronounced — in 
a  kind  of  recitative,  a  sort  of  semi-musical  utterance,  with 
musical  accompaniment.  But  lyric  compositions,  such  as  the 
odes  of  Simonidcs  and  Timotheus,  the  choruses  of  ^Eschylus 
and  Euripides,  were  designed  to  be  sung.  The  poet  was  a 
musician  also ;  his  contemporaries  were  accustomed  to  think 
and  speak  of  him  as  not  only  poet  but  musician.  His  musical 
characteristics  formed  an  essential  part  of  the  critical  judg 
ment  passed  upon  him  by  the  public  for  whom  he  labored. 
The  great  variety  and  complexity  of  the  rhythms  which  he 
used  depends  upon  the  fact  that  they  were  intended  to  be 
sung.  Rhythmic  structures  so  various  and  complex  were  not 
fitted  for  reading,  and  would  never  have  been  produced  for 
it.  They  require  musical  utterance  for  the  development  and 
appreciation  of  the  rhythm.  German  translators  have  often 
overlooked  this  fact.  Hartung  endeavors  to  reproduce  the 
metres  of  Pindar  line  for  line  in  his  German  version.  It  is 
impossible  that  an  attempt  so  difficult  and  constraining  should 
not  operate  disadvantageously  on  the  force,  aptness,  and  clear 
ness  of  his  translation.  And  what  is  the  gain  ?  No  one  could 
give  the  German  verses  their  intended  rhythm  without  a  care- 


84  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

ful  and  painful  scrutiny  of  the  annexed  metrical  scheme.  And 
when  all  is  done,  when  with  much  effort  you  can  accent  the 
heavy  German  lines  on  the  right  syllables,  the  rhythmical 
result  is  one  which  Pindar  himself  would  never  have  regarded 
as  legitimate  or  desirable. 

We  may  take  yet  another  instance,  an  extreme  case,  to 
show  how  the  writers  on  metric — some  of  them,  at  least — 
while  counting  longs  and  shorts,  could  overlook  the  most 
obvious  facts  of  rhythm.  The  so-called  elegiac  pentameter, 
which  in  the  elegiac  distich  alternates  with  the  dactylic  hexa 
meter,  is  in  fact  only  a  variety  of  the  hexameter — a  hexameter 
in  which  the  third  and  sixth  feet  are  reduced  to  a  single 
syllable,  the  remaining  times  in  those  feet  being  made  up 
by  pauses.  If  we  take  the  first  line  of  the  Iliad — M.r]viv  aeiSe, 
Bed,  n^XtjldSeco  ' A-^i\i]o^ — and  substitute  a  pause  for  the  last 
half  of  the  third  and  the  sixth  feet — MTJVIV  aeiSe,  ded,  °  X^aSeo) 
'A^tX.rj  ° — we  have  the  form  of  the  elegiac  pentameter.  Or 
take  the  English  distich  which  Coleridge  translated  from 
Schiller,  but  unluckily  forgot  to  mention  Schiller's  name  in 
connection  with  it  r  "In  the  hexameter  rises  the  fountain's 
silvery  column,  In  the  pentameter  aye  falling  in  melody 
back."  Here  fill  out  in  words  the  pauses  of  the  second  line, 
"  In  the  pentameter  aye  it  is  falling  in  melody  downwards," 
and  you  have  a  hexameter  line,  like  the  one  before  it. 
Hephaestion  had  the  grace  to  see  this  :  he  has  given  a  correct 
description  of  the  so-called  pentameter,  which  recognizes  its 
true  relation  to  the  hexameter.  But  there  were  writers  who 
gave  it  a  different  description,  who  made  it  consist  of  five 
feet,  whence  the  false  name  of  pentameter— -five  feet,  of  which 
the  first  two  were  either  dactyls  or  spondees,  the  third  always 
a  spondee,  and  the  fourth  and  fifth  anapaests.  Such  a  de 
scription  answers  certainly  to  the  succession  of  long  and  short 
syllables  in  this  verse  ;  but  it  utterly  fails  to  give  an  intelligible 
conception  of  its  rhythm. 

But  beside  the  ancient  writers  on  metric,  there  were  others 
who  treated  of  rhythmic,  according  to  the  distinction  before 
drawn  between  these  terms.  Unfortunately  the  works  on 
rhythmic  seem  to  have  been  much  less  numerous  than  those 
on  metric,  and  the  remains  of  them  which  have  come  down 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  85 

to  us  are  exceedingly  scanty.  In  these,  nearly  everything 
of  any  value  has  come  directly  or  indirectly  from  a  single 
author,  from  Aristoxenus  of  Tarentum.  This  eminent  phi 
losopher  was  a  pupil  of  Aristotle,  and  after  the  death  of  the 
master  aspired  to  lead  the  school  of  his  followers,  but  Theo- 
phrastus  of  Lesbos  was  preferred  before  him  for  this  station. 
He  wrote  on  many  subjects,  but  especially  on  music  and  the 
arts  connected  with  it.  Among  his  works  of  this  class  was 
one  entitled  *RvQ^uca  aTOi^ela,  l  Rhythmic  Elements,'  in 
which  he  drew  out  for  the  first  time  in  scientific  form  the 
principles  of  rhythm  which  were  embodied  in  the  music  and 
poetry  of  his  countrymen.  If  this  work  were  preserved  in  its 
entireness,  we  should  doubtless  have  a  systematic  and  tole 
rably  adequate  conception  of  the  ancient  rhythms.  But  we 
have  in  fact  only  fragments — one  large  fragment  and  a  num 
ber  of  small  ones.  The  large  fragment  was  found  in  a  Vatican 
manuscript  containing  works  or  parts  of  works  on  musical 
subjects.  It  was  first  published  by  Morelli  at  Venice  in  1785, 
and  recently  by  Westphal  in  his  Fragmcnte  und  Lelirscitze  der 
Gricchischen  Rhythmiker  (Leipzig,  1861).  As  printed  by  the 
latter,  it  amounts  to  about  270  lines  :  it  formed  the  beginning 
of  the  second  book  in  the  work  of  Aristoxenus.  Of  the 
smaller  fragments,  several  come  from  a  little  tract,  rjrpo\a(jb- 
ftavbfjieva  e/9  Trjv  pvO/JLitcrjv  €7rtcrT?7yLt7/i/,  by  Michael  Psellus,  a 
Byzantine  writer  of  the  tenth  century  ;  and  others  from  an 
anonymous  manuscript  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Paris.  Next 
in  importance  to  these  remains  of  Aristoxenus,  but  next  at  a 
great  interval,  is  a  work  of  Aristides  Quintilianus,  who  seems 
to  have  been  a  thinker  of  the  revived  Pythagorean  school, 
and  probably  lived  in  the  century  before  Constantine.  His 
work  may  be  called  an  Encyclopaedia  of  the  Musical  Arts.  In 
the  first  of  its  three  books  he  treats  of  Harmonic,  Rhythmic, 
and  Metric  ;  in  the  second  he  discusses  the  influence  of  mu 
sical  art  upon  the  soul ;  in  the  third  he  sets  forth  the  numeral 
relations  which  subsist  among  the  tones  of  the  musical  scale 
—the  numbers  which  express  the  ratios  of  the  vibrations  by 
which  the  tones  are  produced — and  then  proceeds,  after  the 
Pythagorean  fashion,  to  show  the  cosmical  significance  of 
these  numbers.  The  rhythmic,  it  will  be  seen,  forms  only 


86  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

part  of  one  book,  though  the  second  book  contains  an  impor 
tant  passage  on  the  different  ifios  or  character  (pathetic,  ani 
mating,  terrifying,  etc.)  of  different  rhythms.      But  even  if  we 
include  this  passage,  the  rhythmic  of  Aristides,  as  printed  in 
Westphal's  collection  just  referred  to,  contains  less  than  four 
hundred  lines  :   it  is  curt  and  meagre,  and  altogether  insuffi 
cient  to  give  any  satisfactory  conception  of  the  subject.      In 
parts  of  this  brief  sketch,  Aristides  has  relied  on  Aristoxenus, 
or  perhaps  on  a  writer  who  drew  his  materials  from  Aristox 
enus,  so  that  what  we  find  here  represents  the  Aristoxenian 
theory  of  rhythm  ;   but  in  other  parts  he  evidently  follows  a 
different,  and  far  inferior,  authority.   This  mixture  of  different 
authorities  and   views  adds  greatly  to  the   difficulties  which 
attend  the  interpretation  of  Aristides.      Besides  Aristoxenus 
and  Aristides,  Westphal's  collection  contains  a  few  pages  of 
fragments    drawn    from    other    sources,    mostly    anonymous. 
The   student   of  ancient    rhythmic   is   not   oppressed   by   the 
extent  of  his  authorities.      It  would  be  no  extraordinary  feat 
for  him  to  commit  tD   memory  every  line  of  the  texts  which 
he  has  to  work  upon.      It  is  only  of  late  that  the  importance 
of  studying  these  texts  has  come  to  be  recognized.      It  has 
been  the  prevailing  impression  of  scholars  that,  in  order  to 
understand  the  rhythm  of  Greek  poetry,  it  was  enough  for  us 
to  examine  the  extant  remains  of  Greek  poetry,  being  aided 
in  the  work  by  the  old  writers  on   metric,  and   guided  at  the 
same  time  by  our  own  sense  of  rhythm.      But  it  is  coming  to 
be  understood  that  there  is  great  uncertainty  and  hazard  in 
thus  applying  our  own  notions  of  rhythm  to  the  poetry  of  the 
Greeks.     The  sense  of  rhythm  is  indeed  common  to  all  men. 
There  are   many  forms  and  successions  which  all  men  would 
accept  as  rhythmical,  many  others  which  all  would  reject  as 
unrhythmical  :   but  there  are  some  which  are  not  so  definitely 
marked,  about  which  different  men  might  differ  as  to  their 
rhythmical  character/    And  among  forms  acknowledged  to  be 
rhythmical,  some  men  would  prefer  one,  some  another  ;  the 
choice  depending  very  much  on  fashion  and  education.    Where 
a  particular  verse  admits  of  different  rhythmic  constructions, 
we  cannot  assume  it  as  certain  that  the  one  which  seems  pre 
ferable  to  us  would  have  seemed  so  to  the  Greeks.     There 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  87 

are  many  particulars  in  which  we  can  never  know  the  actual 
rhythraus  of  Greek  verses  without  an  authentic  statement 
from  the  Greeks  themselves.  I  need  not  insist  further  on  this 
point.  It  will  become  more  apparent  as  we  proceed.  The 
first  scholar  who  pointed  out  the  importance  of  carefully 
studying  the  remains  of  Greek  writers  on  rhythm  was  Bockh, 
in  his  Essay  on  the  Metres  of  Pindar.  In  this  study,  how 
ever,  he  did  not  himself  proceed  to  any  great  extent. 

It  is  only  about  twelve  years  since  two  young  scholars- in 
Tubingen,  August  Rossbach  and  Rudolf  Westphal,  set  them 
selves  in  earnest  to  the  work.  A  volume,  entitled  Griechische 
Rhythmik)  appeared  in  1854,  written  by  Rossbach,  but  pre 
senting  the  results  of  their  united  study.  It  was  succeeded  in 
1-856  by  a  volume  bearing  the  names  of  both  scholars,  the 
Griechische  Mctrik,  in  which  the  doctrines  of  rhythmic  de 
veloped  in  the  former  work  were  applied  to  the  treatment  of 
Greek  metres.  It  appeared,  however,  that  in  the  interval  of 
two  years  which  separated  these  works  the  views  of  the  writers 
had  undergone  changes  on  various  points,  and  some  of  con 
siderable  consequence — a  circumstance  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  when  we  consider  the  newness  of  the  subject  and  the  great 
difficulties  which  attend  it.  These  volumes  attracted  much 
attention,  and  were  generally  regarded  as  containing  new  and 
important  truth — though  how  much,  few  would  undertake  to 
decide.  There  were  not  many  critics  whose  studies  had  fitted 
them  to  pass  a  comprehensive  and  independent  judgment  on 
works  of  this  kind.  But  it  is  proper  to  except  one  or  two 
articles  by  H.  Weil  of  Besan^on,  who  is  known  for  an  elabo 
rate  book  on  Latin  accent,  published  by  him  and  Benloew. 
The  articles  to  which  I  refer  appeared  in  Jahn's  JahrbilcJicr, 
and  contain  valuable  contributions  to  a  knowledge  of  Greek 
rhythmic.  In  1861,  Westphal  came  out  again  with  a  volume 
entitled  Die  Fragment e  und  die  Lehrsatze  der  Griechischen 
Rhythmikcr.  It  professes  to  be  a  supplement  to  the  Greek 
Rhythmic  of  A.  Rossbach.  It  is  dedicated  by  the  author  to 
his  former  associate  Rossbach,  who  seems  to  have  withdrawn 
from  these  studies.  The  dedication  speaks  of  numerous 
changes  of  opinion  as  having  been  the  result  of  further  research, 
and  apologizes  for  the  appearance  which  the  new  book  has  of 


88  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

being  in  no  small  degree  a  polemic  against  the  old  one.  The 
work  opens  with  an  Introduction,  on  the  sources  from  which 
a  knowledge  of  Greek  rhythmic  is  to  be  derived,  the  manu 
scripts  in  which  we  find  them,  the  books  in  which  they  have 
been  printed,  and  the  like.  Then  follow  the  texts  themselves, 
occupying  some  fifty  loosely-printed  pages.  But  by  far  the 
largest  part  of  the  book  consists  of  the  Commentary  on  the 
Doctrines  of  the  ancient  Rhythmic  Writers.  This  Com 
mentary  follows,  not  the  order  of  the  texts  to  be  elucidated, 
but  the  natural  arrangement  of  the  subject  :  beginning  with 
the  general  idea  of  rhythm  ;  proceeding  thence  to  arsis  and 
thesis  in  general,  thence  to  kinds  of  feet,  thence  to  extent  of 
feet,  and  so  on  ;  giving  under  each  head  the  dicta  of  the 
rhythmic  writers,  and  discussing,  comparing,  and  illustrating 
their  statements.  Only  a  few  weeks  after  Westphal's  book 
was  given  to  the  public,  there  appeared  another  on  the  same 
subject,  and  on  somewhat  the  same  plan,  by  Julius  Caesar,  a 
scholar  of  long-established  reputation.  Its  name  is  Die 
Grundzllgc  der  GriecJiiscJicn  RJiytJnnik,  im  Ansclihiss  an  Arts- 
tides  Quintilianus,  crldutcrt  von  Julius  Ccesar.  The  Introduc 
tion  to  this  work  contains  a  very  thorough  investigation  of  all 
that  is  or  can  be  known  concerning  Aristides,  with  a  view 
especially  to  determine  the  time  when  he  lived  and  wrote. 
Then  comes  the  text  of  Aristides — that  part  of  it  which  re 
lates  to  rhythmic — with  careful  statements  of  various  readings. 
And  then  a  long  Commentary,  in  which  particular  points  of 
rhythmic  are  taken  up,  one  after  another,  and  the  statements 
of  Aristides  are  discussed  in  comparison  with  those  of  other 
authorities.  In  these  discussions  Caesar  is  often  led  to  notice 
and  criticise  the  views  expressed  by  Rossbach  and  Westphal 
in  their  RJiythmik  und  Mctrik ;  and  his  criticism,  though  in 
tended  to  be  respectful  and  courteous,  is  somewhat  irritating 
in  its  tone.  He  assumes  that  they  have  been  so  biassed  by 
their  own  preconceived  notions  of  rhythm  as  to  be  unfitted  for 
a  fair  understanding  and  appreciation  of  the  texts  on  which  they 
build.  This  tone  is  especially  marked  in  the  Preface  and  the 
Appendix  ;  these  were  written  after  the  appearance  of  West 
phal's  Fragincnte  und  Lclirsiitze,  and  the  last  is  taken  up 
with  a  discussion  of  the  various  points  in  which  they  differ. 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  89 

One  might  suppose  from  Caesar's  tone  that  there  was  a  funda 
mental  difference  between  his  views  and  those  of  Westphal. 
But  upon  looking  more  closely  it  would  be  found  that  on 
most  of  the  main  points  they  are  agreed,  and  that  the  matters 
about  which  they  disagree  are  generally  of  minor  conse 
quence.  It  is  not  strange  perhaps  that  Westphal  should  have 
felt  himself  somewhat  aggrieved  by  Caesar's  criticisms  ;  but 
the  way  in  which  he  shows  his  resentment  is  not  altogether  to 
be  approved.  He  brought  out  last  year  (1863)  a  long-prom 
ised  work,  a  part  of  the  same  series  with  the  Rhythmik  und 
Metrik,  viz.  Hannonik  und  Mclopoie  der  Gricchcn.  To  this 
he  has  prefixed  a  long  preface  of  fifty  pages,  much  of  it  taken 
up  with  one  or  two  points  on  which  he  and  Caesar  are  at  issue. 
And  it  is  somewhat  curious,  as  a  manifestation  of  feeling,  that 
he  everywhere  suppresses  the  name  of  Caesar  while  combat 
ing  his  views,  although  he  is  thus  obliged  to  use  some  rather 
inconvenient  circumlocutions.  Just  at  the  end,  however,  he 
does  bring  out  the  name,  as  if  he  had  been  reserving  it  to  that 
place  for  a  grand  final  explosion.  To  rebut  this  attack,  Suse- 
mihl,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  pupil  of  Caesar's,  appears  in 
Jahn's  Jahrbucher  for  Dec.  1863,  with  an  open  letter  to  his 
master,  in  which  he  says  that  Westphal  has  carried  on  his 
polemic  in  such  a  way  that  Caesar's  self-respect  will  hardly 
allow  him  to  reply,  and  he  (Susemihl)  therefore  takes  up  the 
cudgels  for  him.  But  if  he  is  a  partisan,  he  is  a  fair-minded 
one  ;  he  concedes  so  much  to  his  opponent  that  Caesar  finds 
it  necessary  to  append  a  lengthy  note,  protesting  against  the 
admissions  of  his  friend,  and  fighting  against  his  champion 
hardly  less  than  against  his  enemy. 

Before  taking  up  the  principles  of  rhythmic,  it  may  be  well 
to  notice  some  objections  urged  against  this  study,  which 
Westphal  states  and  answers  in  the  Introduction  to  his  Frag- 
mente  nnd  LcJirsatze.  The  first  is,  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
ancient  rhythmists  refers  not  so  much  to  the  rhythm  of  poetry 
as  to  that  of  music.  Westphal's  reply  runs  thus  :  "  This  error, 
which  has  arisen  from  the  relation  of  our  modern  poetry  to 
music,  appears  to  have  been  shared  even  by  Hermann,  and  to 
this  day  many  philologians  seem  not  to  be  wholly  free  from  it. 
The  relation  of  the  poet  to  the  musician  in  classic  Greek  was 


9°  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

wholly  different  from  what  it  is  with  us.  It  is  true  that  the 
ancients  also  had  an  instrumental  music  separate  from  poetry ; 
but  while  this  in  modern  times  has  been  coming  more  and 
more  to  be  the  crown  of  musical  art,  it  was  confined  in  anti 
quity  to  the  kitharistic  and  aulctic  nomes  ;  but  the  centre  of 
gravity  lay  in  vocal  music  with  instrumental  accompaniment, 
in  melodized  poetry.  Was  then,  we  ask,  the  rhythm  which 
the  ancient  poet  gave  to  his  compositions  different  from  the 
rhythm  of  the  song  ?  In  our  time  this  is  certainly  the  case. 
Our  dramas  are  either  designed  to  be  declaimed  throughout 
— and  this  is  true  of  all  which  make  pretensions  to  any  high 
poetic  merit — or  the  drama  takes  the  form  of  an  opera,  ii> 
which  the  music  predominates  with  such  unlimited  ascend 
ency  that  the  text,  with  rare  exceptions,  is  insignificant  as 
poetry,  and  even  the  metrical  form  is  indifferent,  for  the  com 
poser  in  general  arranges  his  rhythms  (bars  in  music)  without 
reference  to  the  number  of  verse-feet,  and  in  the  religious 
opera  frequently  makes  use  of  an  unmetrical  prose  text.  Such, 
too,  is  the  procedure  of  a  musician  when  he  melodizes  a  lyric 
poem  which  he  finds  ready  to  his  hand,  a  poem  written  with 
out  reference  to  musical  composition.  Very  different  was  the 
case  in  classic  Greece.  Excepting  the  Epos  and  a  few  other 
species,  every  poem  was  expressly  intended,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  for  musical  performance.  To  write  a  lyric  poem  for 
mere  reading  or  declamation  was,  with  few  exceptions,  an 
unknown  effort  of  poetic  art,  and  every  drama  (as  Aris 
totle  says)  contains  the  /u-eXwSta  as  an  essential  element,  as 
fieyicTTov  t]^vorfj.dTwv.  Not  only  choral  songs  and  monodies, 
but  also  parts  of  the  dialogue  were  sung,  and  even  when  the 
iambic  trimeter  of  tragedy  was  spoken,  it  was  delivered  in  a 
melodramatic  way,  i.  c.  with  instrumental  accompaniment. 
To  this  we  must  add  that  poet  and  composer  were  united  in 
one  person.  In  the  great  lyric  and  dramatic  authors  of 
Greece  we  are  wont  to  see  poets  merely,  but  in  antiquity 
they  were  no  less  esteemed  as  the  Coryphaei  of  music.  When 
Aristoxenus,  the  great  musical  art-theorist,  protests  against 
the  overloading  of  music  with  affected  ornament,  a  style 
which  had  been  introduced  by  Philoxenus  and  Timotheus, 
and  which  threatened  a  general  corruption  of  taste,  he  refers 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  91 

to  the  representatives  of  the  good  classical  style  as  models  for 
imitation,  naming  as  such  Pindar  and  Pratinas  :  'Whoever' 
(he  says)  '  has  in  his  youth  earnestly  and  zealously  studied 
the  fjie\7)  and  /cpou/^ara,  the  melodies  and  instrumentations  of 
these  masters,  will  remain  ever  after  secure  from  many  aber 
rations,  even  if  he  should  apply  himself  to  the  complex  and 
ornate  TTOIKL^TJ  /AOVCTIKIJ  of  Philoxenus'  (Plut.  Mus.  31).  If 
Aristoxenus  would  show  that  the  noble  simplicity  of  classical 
music  was  conscious  and  intentional,  and  by  no  means  founded 
in  a  defective  knowledge  of  the  resources  of  art  (ov  8t'  ciyvoiav 
aXXa  8ia  irpoalpeaiv),  he  refers  to  the  compositions  of  /Eschylus 
and  Phrynichus,  who  were  well  acquainted  with  the  chromatic 
treatment  of  the  keys,  but  never  applied  it  in  their  tragedies 
(Plut.  Mus.  20).  So,  too,  Sophocles  was  a  composer  :  Aris 
toxenus  calls  him  the  first  Athenian  who  introduced  the 
Lydian  mode  in  i$ia  acr/jLaia,  i.  <?.  in  monodies  and  threnes, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  dithyrambic  poets  (Vit.  Sophocl.  fin.): 
and  of  later  tragic  poets  we  know  that  they  were  active  as 
musical  artists — as  of  Agathon,  who  took  up  the  chromatic 
keys,  which  his  predecessors  had  declined  to  use.  The  lyric 
and  dramatic  poets  of  the  classical  time  were  therefore  the 
composers  of  their  own  yu-eX?;.  Why  now  do  these  poets 
apply  to  the  metrical  form  of  their  choral  songs  and  dramatic 
monodies  a  degree  of  care  so  extraordinarily  great  ?  Why  do 
they  constantly  appear  in  this  field  as  original  artists,  never 
once  repeating  a  strophic  form,  whether  used  by  themselves 
or  by  any  of  their  predecessors  ?  For  reading  or  declamation 
their  ^e\ij  were  not  intended,  but  for  musical  performance. 
Why  then — we  repeat  the  question — have  they  taken  so  much 
pains  with  the  metrical  form  of  the  Xeft??  The  answer  can  be 
none  but  this  :  the  rhythm  given  by  the  metres  of  the  words 
was  the  same  which  appeared  in  the  musical  delivery,  the 
same  which  the  audience  were  to  hear  in  the  performance  of 
the  poem. 

"  It  is  true  then  that  the  writers  on  rhythm  have  especially  in 
view  the  rhythm  of  the  song,  but  this  is  identical  with  the 
rhythm  of  the  metre,  as  manifested  by  the  words.  In  a  time  like 
ours,  when  poetry  and  music  are  twro  independent  arts,  it  may 
happen  that  a  composer  like  Beethoven,  in  melodizing  three 


92  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

similar  verses  of  five  feet,  should  make  three  bars  out  of  the 
first,  two  out  of  the  second,  and  again  three  out  of  the  third 
(we  refer  to  the  song  Einsam  wandelt  dcin  Frcund  im 
Fruhhngsgarteii).  Beethoven  takes  a  song  which  a  poet  be 
fore  him  had  composed  in  a  traditional  metre,  simply  for 
reading  or  recitation,  without  any  reference  to  melodizing, 
and  in  the  treatment  of  this  metre  he  proceeds  with  perfect 
freedom.  Only  in  this  respect  does  the  composer  attach  him 
self  to  the  poet,  that  the  strong  part  in  every  musical  bar 
coincides  with  an  accented  syllable  in  the  poem,  though  it  is 
not  true  conversely  that  every  accented  syllable  of  the  poem 
appears  in  the  melody  as  the  strong  part  of  a  bar  ;  in  refer 
ence  to  the  weak  part  of  his  bars  the  composer  pays  no  atten 
tion  to  the  poet.  So  stands  the  case  with  modern  rhythmic. 
But  in  classical  antiquity,  where  the  poet  himself  was  always 
composer,  where  he  worked  out  his  artfully  constructed 
metres  only  with  a  view  to  musical  performance,  every  metri 
cal  arsis  is  also  an  arsis  in  the  melody,  every  metrical  thesis  a 
thesis  in  the  melody,  and  as  many  feet  as  belong  to  the  verse, 
so  many  bars  belong  to  the  musical  period.  We  repeat,  then  : 
The  tradition  of  the  writers  on  rhythm  relates  indeed  to  the 
rhythm  of  the  melody,  but  the  rhythm  of  the  melody  is  iden 
tical  with  the  rhythm  of  the  text.  Hence  it  is  that  the  feet 
and  kinds  of  feet  of  which  these  writers  speak  take  their 
names  from  the  feet  of  the  metre  (70^0?  &a/cTv\i/c6v,  la^/Si/cov, 
iraiwviKov,  rpo^alo^  £1X0709,  etc.)  ;  and  moreover,  when  the 
rhythmic  writers  wish  to  illustrate  the  form  of  a  rhythm  or  a 
rhythmic  series,  they  always  take  their  examples  from  metric. 
Never  does  it  appear  that  any  rhythmic  form  of  which  they 
speak  finds  no  application  to  poetry  :  even  the  pceon  epibatns, 
which  had  its  principal  application  in  mere  instrumental  mu 
sic,  seems,  in  the  earlier  time  at  least,  to  have  been  used  also 
as  a  foot  in  poetry." 

I  have  made  this  long  quotation  from  Westphal,  because 
the  views  contained  in  it,  if  not  altogether  novel,  are  very 
justly  and  forcibly  expressed,  and  are  important  to  be  recog 
nized  and  understood.  A  second  objection  brought  against 
this  study  is  that  the  system  of  the  ancient  rhythmists  had  a 
theoretical  rather  than  a  practical  character,  that  it  consisted 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  93 

more  of  speculations  than  of  facts,  that  it  was  not  so  much  a 
description  of  actual  usage  as  a  series  of  ideal  principles  and 
categories.  "  If  this  were  so,  the  rhythm  which  Aristoxenus 
talks  about  might  not  be  identical  with  that  of  the  ancient 
poets  :  Aristoxenus  would  stand  on  much  the  same  level  with 
Hermann  and  Apel."  In  reply  to  this  objection,  Westphal 
traces  the  procedure  of  Aristoxenus  from  point  to  point, 
and  shows  that  it  is  purely  empirical  ;  "he  states  facts, 
one  after  another,  and  states  them  simply  as  facts  ;  he  seeks 
appropriate  definitions  for  current  expressions  of  musical 
art ;  and  beyond  this  he  aims  only  to  bring  the  facts  designa 
ted  by  those  expressions  into  an  intelligible  order,  and  to  show 
that  they  are  justified  by  some  principle  ©r  analogy." 

But  there  remains  a  third  objection  ;  that  the  writers  on 
rhythm  lived  and  wrote  when  art  was  in  its  decline,  and  may 
therefore  be  supposed  to  represent,  not  the  true  classic  usage, 
but  that  of  degenerate  times  and  inferior  artists.  In  regard 
to  this,  I  quote  again  at  some  length  from  Westphal  : 
"  Aristoxenus  stands  on  the  border  of  the  classic  period  :  his 
father  might  have  seen  Socrates,  Epaminondas,  and  other 
men  of  classic  Greece  ;  but  he  himself  belongs  to  a  later  gen 
eration.  He  resided  in  Corinth  at  the  time  when  the  younger 
Dionysius  lived  there  as  an  exile  ;  of  professed  musical  ar 
tists  he  was  particularly  acquainted  only  with  Telestes,  the 
dithyrambic  composer,  whom  he  met  in  his  wanderings 
through  Italy.  Afterwards  he  came  into  connection  with 
Aristotle,  and  after  his  death  aspired  to  be  his  successor  in 
the  Lyceum.  This  in  truth  was  no  longer  the  time  of  classic 
life  :  it  was  a  period  when  the  creative  spirit  in  rhythmic  had 
died  out,  when  men  like  Chseremon  and  Theodectes  held  the 
first  rank  in  tragedy.  But  amid  this  corruption  of  ancient 
art,  Aristoxenus  took  a  very  peculiar  place.  Trained  in  the 
conservative  school  of  the  Pythagoreans,  he  had  early  im 
bibed  a  predilection  for  the  norms  of  ancient  art,  and  this 
partiality  for  the  old  showed  itself  through  his  whole  life,  in 
an 'opposition  to  the  tendencies  of  contemporary  art.  He 
appears  in  his  works  as  an  admirer  of  the  art-style  represented 
by  Pratinas,  Pindar,  Simonides,  Phrynichus,  and  /Eschylus  ; 
in  this  style  he  recognizes  the  proper  r/0o?  (art-character) 


94  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

(Plut.  Mus.  31  and  20);  even  Euripides  and  Sophocles  are  not 
named  by  him  ;  while  against  the  dithyrambic  composers 
Timotheus  and  Telestes,  and  their  modern  style,  he  com 
mences  an  exasperated  strife.  The  good  old  time — that  was 
for  him  the  time  when  art  reached  its  greatest  height,  when 
choral  melody  was  in  its  bloom,  when  musical  art  had  its 
genuine  r/9os  and  truly  served  for  TratSet'a  :  but  now  was  the 
time  of  cr/crjviier)  povcritcij,  of  exaggerated  and  affected  stage- 
airs  and  concert- solos.  TJicn  the  iroiKikia  pvO/JLiKij  had  a 
meaning,  the  artists  were  (f>i\6ppv0^oi :  but  now  all  rjOos  was 
lost  in  the  rhythms  of  the  /ceK\a<TjjLsvafjLe\r).  His  stand-point  is 
most  clearly  exhibited  in  the  work  called  crv^^tKra  CTV^TTOTIKCL 
(Ath.  14.  632).  In  these  colloquies,  which  he  held  with  friends 
and  pupils  on  matters  of  musical  art  and  afterwards  gave  to  the 
public,  he  begins  by  referring  to  the  people  of  Posiclonia  in 
Italy,  who  among  Tyrrhenian  and  Latin  neighbors  had  grad 
ually  become  barbarians,  forgetting  their  Hellenic  customs 
and  language,  and  even  their  very  name  ;  but  on  one  clay  of 
every  year  they  held  a  feast  in  commemoration  of  the  old 
Greek  time,  now  passed  and  gone,  and  broke  up  their  assem 
bly  with  tears  and  lamentations.  '  So  will  we  also  do,'  says 
Aristoxenus  :  '  while  the  theatre  is  sinking  more  and  more 
into  barbarism,  and  musical  art  is  suing  only  for  the  favor  of 
the  multitude  and  hastening  on  to  its  ruin,  in  our  own  little 
circle  we  will  remember  the  ancient  /JLOVCTIK/^'  And  so  he  con 
versed  with  his  scholars  on  the  OrjXvvofjievr]  fjLovo-iKy]  of  the  con 
temporary  theatre  (Themist.  Or.  33,  p.  364),  and  to  the  tasteless 
compositions  of  Philoxenus  and  Timotheus  opposed  the 
norms  of  classic  art  as  represented  by  Pindar  and  Pratinas. 
.  .  .  From  this  oppositional  stand-point,  which  Aristoxenus 
holds  toward  the  musical  art  of  his  own  time,  like  the  battle 
waged  by  Aristophanes  against  the  monodies  of  Euripides 
and  the  new  dithyramb -writers  of  Athens,  it  follows,  of  course, 
that  the  rhythmical  doctrines  of  Aristoxenus  are  drawn  from 
the  norms  which  are  fundamental  to  the  classical  rhythmic 
of  Pindar,  Simonides,  ./Eschylus  ;  they  are  derived  by  ab 
straction  from  the  compositions  of  those  great  masters.  In  a 
word,  the  rhythmical  doctrines  which  Aristoxenus  presents 
to  us  are  the  same  that  were  followed  by  the  classical  poets 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  95 

of  Greece.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  would  not  be  correct 
to  assume  that  the  doctrines  of  Aristoxenus  apply  only  to 
the  times  of^Eschylus  and  Pindar,  and  are  inapplicable  to  the 
rhythmic  of  later  time.s,  as  that  of  Euripides.  Widely  as  the 
rhythmopceia  of  yEschylus  differs  from  that  of  Euripides,  and 
the  rhythmopceia  of  Pindar  from  that  of  Philoxcnus,  in 
particular  forms  and  combinations,  the  fundamental  principles 
of  rhythmic — as  regards  kind  of  feet,  extent  of  feet,  division 
of  feet,  composition  of  feet,  change  of  feet,  etc. — are  the  same 
for  both  periods  of  musical  art ;  they  remained  without 
change  from  the  time  of  Alcman  and  Stesichorus  to  that  of 
the  Romans.  Now  it  is  just  these  fundamental  principles 
which  we  learn  from  the  rhythmic  writers  ;  into  the  detailed  de 
scription  of  art-forms  in  rhythmopceia  (rhythmic  composition) 
they  have  not  entered.  And  thus  no  well-informed  scholar 
would  think  of  constructing  a  complete  metric  from  the  doc 
trines  of  the  rhythmists  :  for  this  purpose  we  must  have  re 
course  to  the  old  writers  on  metric,  and  above  all  to  the  old 
poets  themselves  ;  but  no  system  of  metric  can  have  a  sure 
foundation  unless  it  bases  itself  on  those  fundamental  doc 
trines  of  the  rhythmists.  Unhappily,  of  these  fundamental 
doctrines  we  are  far  from  knowing  all,  for  only  a  very  scanty 
portion  of  the  rhythmical  literature  of  the  ancients  has  been 
preserved  to  As ;  but  what  we  have  received  is  absolutely  in 
valuable,  and  sheds  clear  light  upon  the  darkest  points." 

We  proceed  now  to  consider  some  elementary  facts  and 
principles  of  rhythmic  as  set  forth  in  these  remains  of 
.ancient  rhythmic.  And  we  begin  with  arsis  and  thesis.  As 
rhythm  consists  in  a  regular  succession  of  proportional 
times,  it  is  necessary  that  the  successive  times  should  be  so 
marked  off  and  distinguished  that  their  proportionality  and 
regularity  shall  be  made  clearly  perceptible.  This  is  accom 
plished  by  a  greater  intensity  of  action  falling  upon  particular 
moments,  and  distinguishing  them  from  the  intermediate  mo 
ments  of  weaker  action.  It  is  by  alternate  intension  and  re- 
mission  of  effort  that  rhythm  is  made  obvious  to  our  senses. 
The  portion  of  time  thus  marked  off  by  an  intension  and  a  re 
mission  of  effort  is  a  rhythmic  foot.  It  divides  itself,  of 
course,  into  two  parts,  one  of  them  being  the  time  of  inten- 


96  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

sion,  the  other  that  of  remission.  To  these  two  parts  of  the 
foot  were  given  the  names  of  arsis  and  thesis.  The  names,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  connect  themselves  with  the  dance  :  the 
6ecns  was  the  setting  down  of  the  foot,  and  the  apcns  was  the 
raising  of  it  up.  They  are  appropriate  also  to  the  practice  of 
beating  time,  whether  with  the  foot  or  with  the  hand  :  the 
Oecris  corresponded  to  the  downward  beat,  the  apcrt?  to  the 
upward.  But  the  downward  movement  was  stronger  than 
the  upward,  the  force  of  gravity  being  an  addition  to  the  for 
mer,  and  a  subtraction  from  the  latter.  Hence,  when  these 
times  were  applied  to  musical  and  metrical  feet,  the  name 
thesis  was  used  for  the  stronger  part  of  the  foot,  that  which 
was  distinguished  by  the  intension  of  voice  or  instrument,  and 
the  name  arsis  for  the  weaker  part,  that  which  showed  a  re 
mission  of  voice  or  instrument.  In  dancing  to  the  sound  of 
music,  there  was  a  Oecns  of  the  dancer's  foot  on  the  accented 
part,  and  an  apais  on  the  unaccented  part,  of  the  musical  foot 
or  bar.  In  beating  time  to  poetry,  when  sung  or  recited, 
there  was  a  Oka-is,  or  downward  beat,  on  the  accented  part,  an 
dpcris,  or  upward  beat,  on  the  unaccented  part,  of  the  metri 
cal  foot.  This  is  unquestionably  the  proper  use  of  the  terms 
arsis  and  thesis  :  it  is  the  only  use  among  the  extant  Greek 
writers  on  rhythmic  and  metric,  down  to  a  very  late  period. 
But  it  is  remarkable  that  the  Latin  writers  on  metric  show  a 
very  different  use.  They  employ  arsis,  or  clatio,  for  the  first 
part  of  a  foot,  and  thesis,  or  positio,  for  the  last  part,  without 
reference  to  the  rhythmic  accent.  In  an  iambic  foot  the 
short  syllable  is  arsis,  the  long  thesis  ;  in  a  trochaic  foot,  the 
long  syllable  is  arsis,  the  short  thesis.  The  terms  thus  used  are 
mere  designations  of  place,  and  have  no  rhythmical  significance. 
The  singular  accordance  of  the  Latin  writers  in  this  misuse 
makes  it  probable  that  they  have  derived  it  from  a  common 
source,  which  would  have  to  be  placed  as  early  as  the  second  ~ 
century  after  Christ.  This  "source  would  seem  to  have  been 
some  Greek  author  on  metric  :  I  say  some  Greek  author,  for 
we  find  the  same  usage  in  late  Byzantine  writers,  who 
would  hardly  have  taken  it  from  a  Latin  source.  Wherever 
and  whenever  it  arose,  it  was  the  result  of  ignorance  and  mis 
apprehension.  A  writer  who  had  heard  or  read  that  in  the 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  97 

common  dramatic  trimeter  the  first  part  of  each  foot  was  call 
ed  arsis  and  the  last  part  thesis,  may  have  inferred  that  this 
was  the  case  in  all  kinds  of  verse.  Or  he  may  have  been 
misled  by  the  circumstance  that  the  writers  on  rhythmic, 
where  they  had  occasion  to  speak  of  arsis  and  thesis  together, 
always  coupled  them  in  this  order — arsis  and  thesis.  But  what 
ever  the  explanation,  the  mistake  was  a  most  unfortunate  one. 
For  the  consequence  is  that  the  statements  which  we  find  in 
Latin  sources  as  to  arsis  and  thesis  are  almost  wholly  unin- 
structive  ;  they  do  not  show  us  where  the  rhythmic  accent  fell. 
And  even  when  they  speak  of  the  ictus  or  beat,  the  case  is  no 
better;  for  these  Latin  metricians — who,  it  must  be  remem 
bered,  were  not  practical  musicians — seem  in  their  scanning 
of  poetry  to  have  beat  time  in  the  same  way,  raising  the  hand 
on  the  first  part  of  the  foot  and  lowering  it  on  the  second- 
thus,  in  anna  vir  unique,  raising  the  hand  for  ar-  and  lower 
ing  it  for  -ma  vi-.  But  the  confusion  in  regard  to  arsis  and 
thesis  has  become  still  greater  in  modern  times.  As  the  Latin 
metricians  misunderstood  the  use  of  these  terms  in  Greek  me 
tric,  so  Bentley,  the  first  modern  scholar  who  really  applied 
himself  to  metrical  studies,  misunderstood  the  use  of  the 
Latin  metricians  :  he  took  arsis  for  the  accented  part 
of  the  foot  and  thesis  for  the  unaccented,  thus  exactly 
reversing  the  original  and  proper  use..  In  this  he  has  been 
followed  by  all  scholars  from  his  time  to  ours.  Even  Ross- 
bach,  Westphal,  and  Caesar,  while  protesting  against  the  pre 
valent  use  of  these  terms,  have  felt  themselves  obliged  to  con 
form  to  it.  But  Westphal,  in  his  Fragment e  und  Lehrsatze, 
has  ventured  to  break  loose  from  the  bonds  of  custom,  and 
return  to  primitive  usage.  In  this,  it  seems  to  me,  he  has 
done  well,  and  the  example  will  doubtless  be  followed  by 
other  writers.  But  as  our  scholars  are  familiar  with  the  Bent- 
leian  use,  of  arsis  for  the  accented  part  of  the  foot  and  thesis 
for  the  unaccented,  so  that  statements  in  accordance  with  this 
use  would  be  most  readily  understood,  I  shall  adhere  to  it  in 
the  sequel  of  these  remarks. 

The  foot,  then,  consists  of  the  arsis  or  accented  part,  and 
the  thesis  or  unaccented  part.     The  arsis,  however,   does  not 
always  precede  the  thesis,  as  in  the  bars  of  our  modern  music. 
3 


98  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

It  would  have  been^impler  and  better,  perhaps,  if  the  foot  had 
been  constituted  like  the  bar,  so  as  always  to  commence 
with  an  accent  :  an  unaccented  syllable  at  the  beginning  of  a 
verse  could  then  have  been  treated  as  an  anacrusis,  introduc 
tory  to  the  proper  rhythm.  But  the  ancients  regarded  the 
proper  rhythm,  the  verse  foot,  as  commencing  with  the  com 
mencement  of  the  verse,  and  hence  constituted  feet  of  thesis 
followed  by  arsis,  as  in  iambic  and  anapaestic  verses,  not  less 
than  feet  of  arsis  followed  by  thesis,  as  in  trochaic  and  dac 
tylic  verses.  The  two  components  of  the  foot,  the  arsis  and 
thesis,  may  have  different  ratios  to  each  other.  Thus,  they 
may  have  a  ratio  of  equality,  as  in  the  dactyl,  the  anapaest, 
the  spondee,  in  which  arsis  and  thesis  divide  the  foot  into 
equal  halves  ;  or  they  may  have  a  ratio  of  two  to  one — a 
diplasic  ratio,  as  the  ancients  called  it — as  in  the  trochee  and 
the  iambics,  where  the  long  arsis  has  twice  the  length  of  the 
short  thesis.  It  is  obvious  that  these  two  ratios  correspond  to 
the  two  varieties  of  time  in  modern  music  :  the  equal  ratio 
answers  to  our  common  time,  and  the  diplasic  ratio  answers  to 
our  triple  time.  But  ancient  rhythm  has  another  ratio,  which 
is  not  recognized  in  the  theory  and  the  notation  of  modern 
music.  Though  much  less  frequent  than  either  of  the  others,  it 
is  still  by  no  means  rare.  I  refer  to  the  hemiolic  ratio,  as 
the  ancients  call  it,  in  which  arsis  and  thesis  are  as  ij  to  I,  or 
as  3  to  2.  Thus,  in  the  cretic  foot,  an  arsis  consisting  of  a 
long  and  short  syllable  is  followed  by  a  thesis  consisting  of  a 
long  ;  in  the  first  paeon,  an  equivalent  of  the  cretic,  an  arsis 
consisting  of  a  long  and  short  is  followed  by  a  thesis  consist 
ing  of  two  shorts.  The  hemiolic  ratio  appears  in  cretic  and 
paeonic,  as  the  equal  ratio  does  in  dactyl,  anapaest,  and  spon 
dee,  and  the  diplasic  ratio  in  iambus  and  trochee.  Westphal 
asserts  that  in  modern  music  the  bar  is  sometimes  divided 
into  five  equal  parts,  as  in  the  hemiolic  ratio  ;  and  he  gives  as 
example  of  this  rhythm  the  German  popular  song  of  Prince 
Eugene,  the  music  of  which  he  writes  with  the  fractional  pre 
fix  f .  Beside  these  three  ratios  of  arsis  and  thesis — the  equal, 
diplasic,  and  hemiolic — Aristoxenus  mentions  two  others  :  the 
triplasic,  in  which  the  two  parts  of  the  foot  are  as  3  to  I ,  and 
the  epitritic,  in  which  they  are  as  3  to  4.  He  intimates,  how- 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  99 

ever,  that  they  differ  widely  from  the  preceding,  not  being  used 
continuously  in  rhythmic  composition.  Their  real  character 
has  been  ingeniously  divined  and  convincingly  explained  by 
Rossbach.  I  shall  pass  by  the  explanation  for  the  present, 
and  return  to  it  further  on.  All  other  ratios  between  arsis 
and  thesis,  aside  from  those  which  have  been  mentioned, 
Aristoxenus  sets  aside  as  unrhythmical :  they  are  too  com 
plex  to  be  appreciated  by  our  senses  and  enjoyed  by  our 
feelings. 

We  proceed  now  to  describe  the  rhythmic  feet,  according 
to  the  definitions  of  Aristoxenus.  The  shortest  which  he  ad 
mits  consists  of  three  short  times.  The  pyrrhic,  of  two  short 
times,  is  unsuited  for  rhythmical  purposes  ;  the  arses  and  theses 
would  succeed  each  other  with  too  much  rapidity  for  distinct 
impression  and  agreeable  effect.  This  reason  would  apply  to 
a  verse  made  up  of  pyrrhics  in  immediate  succession.  Whether 
Aristoxenus  would  disallow  the  occasional  use  of  a  single 
pyrrhic- — as  the  ^Eolian  poets  appear  to  use  it  in  the  opening 
of  a  logacedic  verse — is  a  point  on  which  we  have  110  express 
testimony.  Laying  this  out  of  account,  we  have  : 

First.  The  foot  of  3  short  times,  trochee,  iambus,  or  tri 
brach.  The  ratio  is  diplasic,  an  arsis  of  2  times,  a  thesis  of 

3    |       N 
i  time.     It  corresponds  to  our  |  time :  thus,  —090. 

8     Inn    .i.1 

Second.  The  foot  of  4  short  times,  dactyl,  anapaest,  spondee, 
proceleusmatic.  The  ratio  is  equal,  an  arsis  of  2  times,  a 

thesis  of  2.     It  corresponds  to  our  f  time  :  thus,  —  0000. 

Third.  The  foot  of  5  short  times,  cretic,  first  paeon,  fourth 
paeon.  The  ratio  is  hemiolic,  an  arsis  of  3  times,  a  thesis 

of  2.      It   may   be  represented   by  -|  time:   thus,—  40099 

Fourth.  The  foot  of  6  short  times,  ionic  a  majorc,  ionic  a 
minore,  etc.  The  ratio  is  diplasic,  an  arsis  of  4  times,  a 


thesis  of  2.     It  corresponds  to  our  -J  time  :  thus,  —  0  t 


But  6  short  times  admit  of  another  rhythmic  arrangement, 
corresponding  to  our  -|  time  :  thus,  —000009  .  To  this  -| 
we  give  the  name  of  compound  time,  as  it  is  made  up  of  two 


100  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

|-,.one  of  which  has  a  stronger  accent  than  the  other.  This 
stronger  accent  dominates  the  whole  bat,  and  makes  it  a 
unit,  though  a  compound  unit.  In  like  manner  the  cor 
responding  Greek  foot  is  called  by  Aristoxenus  a  compound 
foot  ;  it  is  made  up  of  two  trochees,  iambi,  or  tribrachs  :  i.  e. 
it  is  a  trochaic  or  iambic  dipody.  The  ratio  is  equal,  with 
one  trochee  or  iambus  for  arsis,  and  one  for  thesis.  Observe 
that  the  ratio  of  the  whole  compound  foot  is  equal,  though 
each  of  the  two  feet  from  which  it  is  compounded  has  a  di 
plasic  ratio. 

A  foot  of  7  short  times  would  be  unrhythmical,  or  at  least 
unfitted  for  continuous  composition.  Dividing  the  7  times 
between  arsis  and  thesis,  we  should  have  6  to  I,  or  5  to  2,  or 
4  to  3,  none  of  them  ratios  which  Aristoxenus  recognizes  as 
fitted  for  continuous  rhythmic  composition.  -We  come,  then, 

Fifth.  To  the  foot  of  8  short  times.  This  corresponds  to 
our  -|  time,  a  variety  of  compound  time  made  up  of  two  J-  : 

thus,  —  00000000.  Here,  then,  we  have  another  com 
pound  foot,  a  dactylic  or  anapaestic  dipody.  The  ratio  is 
equal,  with  one  dactyl  or  anapaest  as  arsis,  and  one  as  thesis  ; 
and  here  the  simple  feet  themselves  have  the  same  ratio. 

Sixth,  The  foot  of  9  short  times.  This  corresponds  to  our 
f  time,  a  variety  of  compound  time  made  up  of  three  f  : 

9    |       M       M       N 
thus,  —  000000000.     It  is  a  compound  foot,  a  trochaic  or 

iambic  tripody  ;  the  ratio  is  diplasic,  with  two  trochees  or 
iambi  for  arsis  and  one  for  thesis.  And  the  single  feet  them- 
. selves  of  which  the  compound  foot  is  made  up  have  a  similar 
diplasic  ratio. 

Seventh.   The  foot  of  10  short  times.    It  may  be  represented 

with  our  notation  as  ^  time  :  thus,  —  000000000  0.     It 

is  a  compound  foot,  a  cretic  or  pseonic  dipody  ;  the  ratio  is 
equal,  with  one  paeon  as  arsis  and  one  as  thesis  ;  while  the 
single  feet  themselves  have  the  hemiolic  ratio. 

A  foot  of  1 1  times  would  be  unrhythmical,  for  the  same 
reason  as  one  of  7  times.  You  cannot  divide  the  times 
between  arsis  and  thesis  so  as  to  have  a  ratio  that  is  rhyth 
mical. 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  IOI 

Eighth.   The  foot  of  12  short  times.     This  may  be  repre- 

13  I       M       N  i       (s  ! 
sented  with  our  notation  by  -1/-  :  thus,  —  pp 


This  is  the  trochaic  or  iambic  dimeter,  a  compound  foot  with 
equal  ratio,  one  trochaic  or  iambic  dipody  for  thesis,  and  one 
for  arsis.  But  the  12  shorts  may  also  take  a  form  which  we 

should  write  as  £  :  thus,  —  *  0  &  0900090  *  9.     This  is   an 

ionic  dipody,  with  equal  ratio,  one  ionic  foot  for  arsis  and 
one  for  thesis.  But  yet  again,  the  foot  might  be  written 

•  9  p  p.     This  is  a  dactylic  or  anapaestic 

tripody,  with  diplasic  ratio,  two  dactyls  or  anapaests  for  arsis, 
and  one  for  thesis. 

A  foot  of  13  short  times  is  inadmissible,  as  not  allowing 
any  rhythmical  ratio  between  arsis  and  thesis.  One  of  14 
short  times  might  be  divided  in  an  equal  ratio,  as  a  com 
pound  foot  with  7  times  for  arsis  and  7  for  thesis  ;  but  the 
simple  feet  of  7  times  each  would  themselves  be  unrhythmical, 
and  the  compound  foot  must  therefore  be  unrhythmical  also. 
We  have,  then, 

Ninth.   The  foot  of  15   short  times.     This  may  be  written 

13   I      is  I      I      M      i      N  I 
thus  :  —  p  p.p  p  p  pppppppp  0  ».     It  is  a  cretic  or  paeonic 

tripody,  a  compound  foot  with  diplasic  ratio,  two  cretics  or 
paeons  for  arsis,  and  one  for  thesis.  But  again  we  may  write 

15   I      h  I      M  M      M      h      ™  .    .  i    •          .      ,  . 

—  p*p*ppppfpppp0p  .      I  his  is  a  trochaic  or  iambic 

pentapody  with  hemiolic  ratio,  three  trochees  or  iambi  for 
arsis  and  two  for  thesis. 

Tenth.   The  foot  of  16  short  times.     This  may  be  written 

8     |          |          |          |          |          |          I          I 

—  ppppppppppppptpp.      It  is  a  dactylic  or  anapaestic 

tetrapody,  with  equal  ratio,  having  a  dactylic  or  anapaestic 
dipody  for  arsis  and  another  for  thesis.  According  to  Aris- 
toxenus,  it  is  the  longest  foot  with  equal  ratio,  the  longest 
foot  in  which  arsis  and  thesis  are  equal  to  each  other. 

A  foot  of  17  or  of  19  times  would  allow  no  rhythmical  ratio 
between  arsis  and  thesis.  But  we  have 

Eleventh.   The  foot  of  18  short  times.     We  may  write  it 


102  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE-. 

18     I        h  |        hi        hi        hi        hi        h 

—  000000000000000000.  It  is  a  trochaic  or  iam 
bic  trimeter,  with  diplasic  ratio,  having  two  trochaic  or  iambic 
dipodies  for  arsis,  and  one  for  thesis.  We  cannot  divide  it  in 
equal  ratio,  making  it  consist  of  two  tripodies,  one  for  arsis 
and  one  for  thesis.  For  this  would  be  contrary  to  the  rule  of 
Aristoxenus  just  mentioned.  There  is,  however,  another 
combination  possible,  which  we  may  write  after  this  fashion  : 

000000000000.       It    is    an    ionic    tripody, 


03000 


with  diplasic  ratio,  two  ionic  feet  for  arsis  and  one  for  thesis. 
According  to  Aristoxenus,  the  foot  of  18  times  is  the  longest 
foot  with  diplasic  ratio,  the  longest  in  which  arsis  and  thesis 
are  as  2  to  I.  But  the  hemiolic  ratio  may  extend,  according 
to  his  express  assertion,  to  the  length  of  25  short  times.  This 
gives  us  two  additional  feet,  viz.  : 

Twelfth.   The  foot  of  20    short  times.     We   may   write   it 

-^00000000000000000000.       It    is   a   dactylic   or 

anapaestic  pentapody,  in  hemiolic  ratio,  with  three  dactyls  or 
anapaests  for  arsis,  and  two  for  thesis. 

Thirteenth.     The  foot  of  25  short  times.     We  may  write  it 

35    I       N  '\       !       hi       |       hi       I       N  ;       !       hi 

—  0000000000000000000000000.     It  is  a  cretic 

or  paeonic  pentapody,  in  hemiolic  ratio,  with  three  cretics  or 
paeons  for  arsis,  and  two  for  thesis. 

Of 'the  feet  just  described,  by  far  the  greater  part  are  com 
pound.  The  foot  of  3  times  is  simple,  so  that  of  4  times, 
that  of  5  times,  and  the  first  of  6  times.  But  the  second  of 
6  times  and  all  that  follow  it  are  compound,  and  are  made  up 
of  two  or  more  simple  feet,  each  having  its  proper  accent, 
though  all  under  the  power  of  one  dominant  and  unify 
ing  accent.  These  compound  feet  are  precisely  analogous  in 
rhythm  to  the  varieties  of  compound  time  in  our  music,  to 
i> 'f  >  >b  I  and  *-/-.  The  only  differences  are,  I.  that  the  an 
cients  allowed  ratios  such  as  -|,  -y~,  ^-,  etc.,  which  are  not  defi 
nitely  recognized  in  modern  theory,  and  are  not  found,  at  least 
with  such  notation,  in  our  written  music  ;  and,  2.  that  the  an 
cients  gave  to  these  compound  feet  a  much  greater  extension 
than  they  have  in  modern  praxis — an  extension  reaching  in  the 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  103 

equal  ratio  to  |-,  in  the  diplasic  to  J-y8-,  and  in  the  hemiolic  to  the 
seemingly  enormous  extent  of5/1.  This  great  extent,  however 
strange  it  might  seem  to  us,  in  the  musical  bar,  has  evidently 
nothing  impossible  ;  there  would  be  nothing  impossible  in  a 
.bar  of  16,  18,  20,  or  even  25  quavers  under  the  dominion  of  one 
principal  accent.  And  wre  are  assured  by  the  express  testimony 
of  Aristoxenus,  a  most  competent  witness,  that  ancient  rhythm 
made  use  of  feet  in  which  16,  18,  20,  25  short  times  were  thus 
united  under  the  dominion  of  one  principal  accent. 

I  ought  to  say  that  the  foot  of  8  short  times  w?as  not  always 
a  compound  foot.  It  was  sometimes  a  spondee — the  <j7ro^Seto? 
{jiei&v,  or  greater  spondee,  which  I  have  already  referred  to — 
in  which  each  long  was  equivalent  to  Tour  shorts.  In  like 
manner  there  was  a  foot  of  three  long  syllables,  in  which  each 
long  had  this  same  dimension  of  four  shorts  :  this  foot,  when 
it  had  trochaic  rhythm,  was  called  trocJumis  scmautus,  when  it 
had  iambic  rhythm,  it -was  called  orthius.  The  trochceus 
scmantus  and  the  orthius  were  feet  of  12  short  times,  but 
still  they  were  regarded  as  simple  feet.  In  this  connection  we 
must  notice  also  the  pceou  cpibatus,  or  pxon  of  five  long  syl 
lables,  with  hemiolic  ratio,  three  longs  for  arsis  and  two  for 
thesis.  The/<^;/  cpibatus  was  a  foot  of  10  short  times,  but  it 
was  a  simple  foot. 

As  regards  the  beating  of  the  compound  feet,  we  are  told 
that,  if  the  ratio  was  equal,  the  compound  foot  received  two 
beats,  one  of  which  wras  doubtless  given  to  the  arsis  and  one 
to  the  thesis.  If  the  ratio  was  diplasic,  the  compound  foot 
received  three  beats,  two  of  which  were  doubtless  given  to 
the  arsis  and  one  to  the  thesis.  If  the  ratio  was  hemiolic,  we 
should  expect  five  beats  for  the  compound  foot,  three  for 
arsis  and  two  for  thesis  ;  but,  singularly  enough,  we  have  it 
on  express  and  undeniable  testimony  that  these  hemiolic  feet 
received  four  beats  instead  of  five.  Simple  feet  of  six  short 
times  or  less  received  only  two  beats,  whatever  the  ratio, 
whether  equal,  diplasic,  or  hemiolic  ;  the  single  trochee,  dactyl, 
or  cretic  had  two  beats,  one  for  the  arsis  and  one  for  the  thesis. 

The  doctrine  of  the  extended  or  compound  feet  is  the  most 
valuable  piece  of  instruction  which  we  gain  from  the  remnants 
of  the  old  Greek  rhythmic.  Let  us  look  at  some  of  the  con- 


1 04  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  ME  TRE. 

elusions  which  either  flow  from  it  directly,  or  may  be  in 
ferred  from  it  when  combined  with  other  statements  and 
notices.  We  learn  that  the  common  iambic  trimeter  of  the 
dramatic  dialogue  was  a  single  foot,  that  it  had  one  accent 
which  was  sensibly  stronger  than  any  other  in  it  and  made  it  a 
rhythmic  unity.  This  is  a  fact  which  could  never  have  been 
guessed  at  from  the  descriptions  of  the  writers  on  metric. 
They  represent  the  verse  as  consisting  of  three  dipodies,  but 
they  say  nothing  which  would  suggest  the  idea  that  these 
three  dipodies  are  of  unequal  weight,  or  connected  as  princi 
pal  and  subordinate.  But  now  we  learn  that  one  was  stronger 
than  either  of  the  others.  It  is  probable  that  the  first  dipody 
had  the  strongest  accent,  the  second  a  weaker  accent,  and 
the  third  the  weakest  of  all.  But  it  is  a  question  what  part 
of  the  dipody  received  the  accent,  whether  it  fell  upon  the 
first  or  second  iambus  of  the  dipody.  It  was  assumed  by 
Bentley,  without  any  attempt  at  proof,  that  it  was  the  first 
iambus  which  was  distinguished  by  the  accent ;  and  the  as 
sumption  has  been  tacitly  accepted  by  all  succeeding  writers. 
But  Westphal  denies  the  correctness  of  the  assumption.  He 
maintains,  not  only  that  it  is  unproved,  but  that  it  is  in  con 
flict  with  the  express  teaching  of  the  ancient  authorities.  He 
concludes  with  undoubting  confidence  that  the  accent  fell  on 
the  second  iambus  of  the  dipody  :  thus,  co  re/cva  KO&JJLOV  rov 
Trakai  vea  Tpo&rf.  But  Weil,  reviewing  his  argument,  shows 
that  it  rests  on  statements  of  Latin  metricians,  and  that  the 
misuse  of  these  writers  in  reference  to  arsis  and  thesis  (which 
we  have  before  spoken  of)  deprives  their  statements  of  all 
authority.  At  the  same  time,  he  points  out  an  expression  of 
Aristides  which  implies  pretty  clearly  (though  nobody  had 
noticed  it  before)  that  the  iambic  dipody  was  accented  on  the 
first  foot.  We  are  allowed,  therefore,  to  go  back  to  the 
rendering  of  the  trimeter  which  since  Bentley  has  been  the 
usual  one,  and  which  is  certainly  far  more  consonant  with  our 
modern  notions  of  rhythm,  and  to  read  to  reKva  KdS/^ov  rov 
7rd\ai  vea  rpo(£>/]. 

But  if  the  six  feet  of  the  dramatic  trimeter  form  but  one 
compound  foot,  the  same  cannot  be  true  as  to  the  six  feet  of 
the  epic  hexameter.  For  the  six  dactyls  or  spondees  mak 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  105 

24  short  times — which  would  have  to  be  divided  either  in 
equal  ratio,  as  12  and  12,  or  in  diplasic,  as  16  and  8.  But 
the  longest  foot  with  equal  ratio  has  only  16  short  times  ; 
the  longest  with  diplasic  ratio  only  18.  The  epic  hexameter, 
then,  is  not  under  the  dominion  of  one  superior  accent :  it 
must  consist  of  at  least  two  parts,  the  principal  accents  of 
which  are  equal  to  each  other.  It  appears  certain,  in  fact, 
that  it  was  made  up  of  two  compound  feet,  of  12  short  times 
each,  with  diplasic  ratio,  having  two  dactyls  for  arsis  and  one 
for  thesis.  Which  of  the  three  dactyls  in  each  division  of  the 
verse  had  the  principal  accent  it  is  not  so  easy  to  determine. 
Westphal  finds  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  the  third  :  he 

would  give  the    opening  line    of    the    yEneid    thus  :     Anna 

virumqite  cano  Trojce  qui  primus  ab  oris.  But  the  conclusion 
seems  to  be  far  from  certain. 

The  dactylic  tetrameter  is  doubtless  a  single  foot  of  16 
short  times,  the  longest  which  the  equal  ratio  admits  of;  and 
the  dactylic  octameter  consists  of  two  such  feet.  So  too  the 
anapaestic  dimeter  is  a  single  foot  of  16  times,  and  the 
anapaestic  tetrameter  consists  of  two  such  feet.  In  like  man 
ner  the  iambic  and  trochaic  tetrameters  consist  of  two  feet  of 
12  times  each,  with  equal  ratio.  But  what  shall  we  say  of  the 
trochaic  tetrameter  catalectic,  of  such  a  verse  as  TroXXa  /nev 
<yap  ere  6a\d(rar}s,  TroXXa  8'  e'/e  ^epaov  KCLKVL  ?  If  the  first  half  of 
the  line  has  its  12  short  times,  the  second  or  catalectic  part 
would  seem  to  have  but  II  :  but  Aristoxenus,  as  we  have 
seen,  rejects  the  foot  of  II  shorts  as  being  unrhythmical. 

The  true  answer  doubtless  is  that  the  pause  at  the  end  of 
the  line  makes  up  for  the  deficient  syllable,  and  supplies  the 
one  time  which  is  wanting.  The  iambic  tetrameter  is  also 
often  catalectic,  as  in  o>  (HePicJoTarov  Kpeas  cro^&eo?  ye  Trpovvoi/crco 
or  a)  TTCLGIV  dvOpMTTOLs  (pavels  /jbeytcTTov  ox^eX^/m.  Here  the 
second  compound  foot,  fiejiorrov  Go^eX^a,  or  cro^eo?  <ye 
rjrpovvoY](Tw)  appears  to  consist  of  n  times,  instead  of  12. 
Shall  we  adopt  here  the  same  explanation  as  before,  and  as 
sume  that  the  deficiency  was  made  up  by  a  pause  at  the  end 
of  the  verse  ?  The  more  probable  explanation  for  this  case 
is,  that  the  last  iambus  has  lost,  not  its  second  syllable,  but 
its  first ;  that  the  short  syllable  of  the  last  iambus  is  sup- 


106  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

pressed,  and  its  time  made  up  by  prolonging  the  long  sylla 
ble  of  the  preceding  iambus.  In  the  line  just  quoted,  the  77 
of  voT)  would  be  equal  to  three  short  times,  and  vorjcra),  having 
six  short  times,  would  be  equivalent  to  an  iambic  dipody. 
We  can  now  understand,  in  connection  with  this  example, 
what  Aristoxenus  means  when  he  speaks  of  a  foot  with  tripla- 
sic  ratio — i.  e.  a  foot  in  which  arsis  and  thesis  are  as  3  to  I  : 
such  feet,  he  says,  are  used  occasionally,  though  not  in  con 
tinuous  composition.  The  foot  vorj,  just  before  the  close  of 
the  catalectic  verse,  answers  perfectly  to  this  description. 
Its  thesis  is  of  one  short  time,  its  arsis  of  three.  Its  peculiar 
ratio  arises  from  a  special  cause,  its  arsis  being  prolonged  so 
as  to  occupy  the  time  of  a  short  thesis  suppressed  in  the  next 
foot.  It  has  therefore  an  occasional  character,  differing  in 
this  respect  from  the  ordinary  iambus  with  diplasic  ratio. 

It  is  well  known  that  in  the  iambic  trimeter,  and  in  other 
iambic  and  trochaic  verses,  feet  of  4  short  times,  spondees, 
dactyls,  anapaests,  are  to  some  extent  intermixed  with  the 
proper  three-timed  feet  of  these  rhythms.  How  docs  the  an 
cient  rhythmic  regard  these  apparently  unrhythmical  inter 
mixtures  ?  It  partly  acknowledges  their  unrhythmical  char 
acter.  Aristoxenus  says  there  are  three  varieties  of  times — 
the  eppvOfjioi  or  rhythmical,  which  have  distinct  and  obvious 
ratios  to  each  other;  the  appvO^oi,  or  unrhythmical,  which 
have  no  intelligible  or  appreciable  ratios ;  and  an  intermediate 
class,  the  /au^/xoetSe??,  or  rhythm- like,  the  ratios  of  which  are 
not  indeed  unintelligible,  like  the  last,  but  are  also  not  dis 
tinct  and  obvious,  like  the  first.  There  is  no  doubt  that  by 
the  last  term,  the  pv0/j.oei,8ei$,  he  meant  to  designate  such 
times  as  belong  to  spondees  in  iambic  or  trochaic  verse.  A 
term  more  frequently  applied  to  them  is  a\oyoi,  '  irrational, 
without  ratios,'  i.  c.  without  integral  ratios.  The  ordinary  long 
syllable  is  equal  in  time  to  two  shorts  :  the  ratio  here  is  2.  A 
moment  ago,  we  saw  in  the  penult  of  a  catalectic  tetrameter 
a  syllable  which  contained  three  short  times  :  the  ratio  here  is 
3.  We  have  seen  that  there  were  certain  spondees  in  which 
each  long  syllable  was  equivalent  to  4  shorts  :  the  ratio  here 
is  4.  These  longs  of  two,  three,  or  four  times  are  all  rational : 
their  ratios  to  the  short  syllable  taken  as  the  unit  of  measure- 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  107 

ment  are  all  expressed  by  integers.  But  if  we  should  rind  that, 
in  a  particular  foot,  a  certain  long  syllable  had  the  time  of  i-J- 
shorts,  such  a  long  syllable  would  be  irrational  ;  the  number 
which  expresses  its  ratio  to  the  unit  of  measurement  is  not  an 
integer,  but  a  fraction.  Now  this  is  the  case,  according  to 
explicit  testimony,  with  one  long  syllable  in  the  spondees  of 
iambic  and  trochaic  verses.  The  long  arsis  of  those  spondees 
has  the  usual  length,  that  of  two  shorts,  but  the  long  thesis, 
we  are  told,  was  intermediate  between  one  and  two  shorts  ; 
in  other  words,  it  bore  to  the  unit  of  measurement  the 
fractional  ratio  of  i^  to  I.  It  was  an  irrational  long;  and 
the  foot  to  which  it  belonged  was  irrational  also,  the  whole 
length  of  the  foot  being  expressed  by  a  fractional  designation, 
viz.  3-J  short  times.  The  arsis  and  thesis  of  this  irrational 
foot  bear  to  each  other  the  ratio  of  4  to  3.  And  there  can 
be  no  'question  that  Aristoxenus  refers  to  this  foot,  when  he 
speaks  of  the  epitritic  ratio  (4  to  3)  in  the  same  terms  that  he 
uses  of  the  triplasic,  as  a  ratio  that  does  indeed  occur,  but 
not  in  foot  after  foot  through  a  continuous  rhythmic  series. 
These  irrational  feet  of  the  iambic  and  trochaic  verses  form 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of  ancient  rhythmic.  It 
is  something  which,  to  the  same  extent  at  least,  does  not 
occur  in  modern  art.  It  is  analogous  to  a  ritardando  move 
ment,  by  which  certain  bars—or  rather,  certain  parts  of  cer 
tain  bars — receive  a  length  greater  than  the  ruling  tempo  of 
the  passage  to  which  they  belong.  But  the  definiteness  in 
the  amount  of  retardation  and  in  the  places  of  its  occurrence, 
and  particularly  the  great  frequency  of  its  use,  often  three 
times  in  one  trimeter  verse,  are  circumstances  which  have 
no  parallel  in  our  music. 

In  regard  to  the  feet  of  which  we  have  been  speaking, 
their  irrational  character  rests  upon  positive  testimony.  That 
there  were  other  cases  of  irrationality  is  probable  enough 
in  itself,  but  they  can  only  be  determined  by  processes  of 
inference  which  are  more  or  less  uncertain.  In  the  clactylo- 
epitritic  verses  of  Pindar,  where  dactyls  are  followed  by 
epitrites,  each  epitrite  consisting  of  a  trochee  and  spondee, 
Westphal  considers  the  trochees  as  equal  in  time  to  the 
dactyls  and  spondees  with  which  they  are  associated.  In 


IOS  GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE. 

that  case,  they  would  contain  irrational  times  ;  the  long  of 
the  trochee  would  be  |-  and  its  short  f  of  the  short  time  which 
serves  as  the  unit  of  measurement ;  while  together  they  would 
make  l-f  or  4  short  times,  which  is  the  normal  length  of  the 
dactyls  and  spondees.  But  on  the  other  hand,  in  logacedic 
verses,  which  show  dactyls  mixed  with  trochees,  Westphal 
regards  the  trochees  as  having  rational  times,  and  the  dac 
tyls  irrational.  To  the  long  of  the  logacedic  dactyl  he  gives 
the  length  off,  to  its  first  short  f,  to  its  last  short  the  ra 
tional  length  I  :  the  dactyl  consists  then  of  -*-,  f ,  I ,  making  in 
all  3  times,  which  is  the  normal  length  of  the  trochees.  To 
this  measurement  of  the  logacedic  dactyl  Caesar  strenuously 
objects  :  he  makes  the  logacedic  dactyl  equal  to  a  trochee, 
but  divides  it  into  i.V,  f ,  f- — the  long  syllable  i-J-  instead  of 
two,  and  each  short  f  instead  of  I.  This  difference  of  opinion 
has  been  the  theme  of  some  pretty  acrimonious  discussion  ; 
but  I  cannot  enter  here  into  the  merits  of  the  quarrel. 

I  have  already  pointed  out  a  long  syllable  of  three  times  as 
occurring  in  the  penult  of  catalectic  trimeters.  I  may 'now 
say  that  the  ancient  rhythmic  recognizes  also  a  long  syllable 
of  four  times  (this,  too,  we  have  had  occasion  to  notice)  ;  and 
even  a  long  syllable  of  five  times,  equal  to  a  whole  cretic  or 
paeonic  foot.  It  is  often  matter  of  doubt  whether  we  are  to 
recognize  such  a  lengthened  long,  or  whether  \ve  are  to  as 
sume  a  pause  of  one,  two,  three,  or  four  times.  Such  vacant 
times,  Kevol  %p6voL,  are  fully  recognized  in  the  theory  of  an 
cient  rhythmic.  Thus,  in  the  so-called  elegiac  pentameter, 
aicrxyvT]  Se  </xXot?  r)p,erepois  eyevov,  where  the  one  syllable  Xot? 
takes  the  place  of  a  dactyl,  we  might  question  whether  A,o£? 
was  actually  prolonged  to  a  length  of  4  times,  or  whether  it 
had  its  usual  length,  but  was  followed  by  a  pause  of  two 
short  times.  In  this  case  we  have  ancient  testimony  show 
ing  that  the  syllable  was  not  prolonged,  but  that  a  pause  was 
made  after  it.  But  if  times  are  wanting  in  the  middle  of  a 
word,  as  often  happens,  we  may  safely  assume  that  they  were 
made  up,  not  by  a  pause,  which  could  hardly  be  tolerated  in 
such  a  place,  but  by  the  prolongation  of  a  long  syllable  to 
three,  four,  or  five  times.  The  recognition  of  deficient  times, 
which  were  made  up  in  one  way  or  the  other,  by  a  pause  or 


GREEK  RHYTHM  AND  METRE.  1 09 

by  the  prolongation  of  a  long  syllabic,  has  put  a  new  face  on 
ancient  metres.  It  is  perhaps  the  most  important  peculiarity 
in  the  work  of  Rossbach  and  Westphal  on  Greek  metric.  In 
the  little  metric  at  the  end  of  my  Greek  grammar  I  have 
adopted  it  from  them,  with  the  name  of  syncope,  which  they 
had  given  it.  Its  effect  in  giving  simplicity  and  unity  to 
many  things  which  before  appeared  unconnected  and  un 
meaning  may  be  shown  by  a  brief  illustration.  In  looking 
over  the  index  of  metres  to  President  Woolsey's  Electra,  I 
find  five  different  names  given  to  what  I  should  regard  as 
syncopated  forms  of  the  iambic  trimeter  :  I.  Antispast  and 
iambic  penthemimeris ;  2.  Two  iambic  penthemimeres ;  3. 
Iambic  penthemimeris  and  iambic  tripody  ;  4.  Iambic  dime 
ter  hypercatalectic  ;  5.  Iambic  dipody  and  ithyphallic.  By 
looking  over  the  indexes  to  other  plays,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  I  could  have  increased  this  number.  It  is  evident  that 
these  names,  beside  their  number,  fail  most  of  them  to  sug 
gest  any  clear  idea  of  a  rhythmical  unity.  But  if  in  all  these 
various  and  strange-looking  lines  we  can  truly  recognize  vari 
ous  forms  of  the  iambic  trimeter,  we  have  certainly  made  a 
great  and  most  satisfactory  advance  in  our  understanding  of 
their  rhythmus. 


VI. 

ON  THE  NATURE  AND  THEORY  OF  THE  GREEK 

ACCENT. 

1869. 

EVERY   Greek  word   of  two  or  more  syllables  had  one 
syllable  which  was  sounded   on  a  higher  key  than  the 
rest  of  the  word  :   thus,  \v  in  \e\vKoitu,  ice  in  \e\vieevai,  /co?  in 
XeTuwc'9.     Eor  a  long  time,  the    Greeks  in  writing  their  lan 
guage  made  no  attempt  to  distinguish  the  syllable  which  was 
thus  sounded  on  a  higher  key  :   they  aimed  to  represent  the 
substance  of  their  sounds,  the  different  articulations,  but  not 
their   relative   pitch.       It  was  not  until  the  development    of 
grammatical  study,  in  the  Alexandrian  period,  that  the  gram 
marian  Aristophanes  of  Byzantium,  about  200  years  before 
our  era,  invented  a  sign  for  this  purpose.      Over  the  vowel 
which  was  sounded  on  a  higher  key  he  placed  a  wedge-like 
mark,  sloping  downward  to  the  left,  which  was  called  ^  o^ela 
7rpo$M$ia,  'sharp  accent,'   'acute  accent.'     But  it  often  hap 
pened,  in  the  utterance  of  a  long  vowel  or  diphthong,  that 
the  higher  key  with  which  the  word  began  was  not  maintained 
to  the  end  ;   that,  after  pronouncing  the  first  part  on  a  higher 
key,  the  voice  dropped   down  to   a  lower,  and   on  this  pro 
nounced   the   last   part   of  the   long  sound.      For  such  cases 
Aristophanes  introduced  a  compound  sign  ;   representing  the 
higher  key  as  before,  he  added,  to  represent  the  lower  key,  a 
similar  mark,  but  sloping  downward  to  the  right.      The  roof 
formed  by  the  joining  of  the  two   marks  was  rounded  ofT  in 
writing,  and  the  whole  sign  was  called  77  Trepio-Tray/uievT)  Trpo^wBla, 
'twisted   accent/    'circumflex  accent.'     The   ordinaty  lower 
key  was  not  generally  represented  by  any  distinctive  mark  : 
if  the  vowel  of  a  syllable  had  no  mark  of  higher  pitch  written 
above  it,  this  was  a  sufficient   indication   of  its  lower  pitch. 
And,  indeed,  there  was  nothing  in  this  lower  pitch  that  called 
for   designation.      The   essential   fact    to    be    recognized    and 


GREEK  A  CCENT.  1 1 1 

made  evident  in  the  writing  was  not  that  some  syllables  were 
lower  than  the  rest :  it  was  that  some  were  higher  than  the 
rest;  or  rather,  that  one  syllable  in  each  word  was  made  con 
spicuous  and  important  above  all  others  by  the  higher  key  on 
which  it  was  sounded.  Yet  there  were  two  cases  in  which 
the  lower  pitch  was  represented  in  writing.  One  of  these 
has  just  been  noticed — when  the  lower  pitch  followed  the 
higher  in  the  same  syllable,  in  the  same  long  vowel-sound. 
The  circumflex  accent  used  for  such  a  syllable  consisted  of 
two  marks,  a  first  representing  the  higher,  and  a  second 
representing  the  lower  pitch.  The  other  case  relates  to 
oxytone  words,  where  the  higher  pitch  comes  at  the  end  of 
the  word  and  belongs  to  the  last  syllable  :  ayaOos,  arpar^yo^. 
If 'such  a  word  is  followed  by  other  words  in  immediate  gram 
matical  connection,  the  higher  pitch  of  its  last  syllable  changes 
to  a  lower  one,  as  in  dyaOos  o-Tparrjybs  eyevero.  Here  now, 
on  the  last  syllable  of  an  oxytone  word,  when  in  the  connec 
tion  of  discourse  its  higher  pitch  changes  to  a  lo\ver,  the 
lower  pitch  is  represented  in  writing,  and  represented  in  the 
same  way  as  in  the  latter  part  of  the  circumflex  accent  :  that 
is,  by  a  mark  sloping  downward  to  the  right,  and  called  77 
{Bapela  Trpo^wSia,  'heavy  accent,'  'grave  accent.'  Aside, 
then,  from  these  two  cases,  the  ordinary  lower  pitch  is  always 
left  without  designation. 

In  this  description  of  the  Greek  accent,  it  has  been  taken 
for  granted  that  there  was  an  actual  regular  difference  of  pitch 
between  different  syllables  of  a  word,  and  that  the  proper  use 
of  the  written  accent  was  to  represent  that  difference.  The 
correctness  of  this  assumption  is  implied  in  the  very  names 
of  the  accents.  The  words  o|fu9,  '  sharp,'  and  ftapvs,  '  heavy,' 
are  the  ordinary  words  used  in  Greek  music  for  what  we  in 
our  music  call  '  high'  and  '  low.'  They  are  not  used  to  de 
note  difference  in  stress,  or  strength  of  utterance.  We  might 
find  it  natural  that  ofu?,  '  sharp,'  should  be  applied  to  a  sylla 
ble  which  was  pronounced  with  marked  stress  ;  but  it  would 
be  strange  if  {3apv$,  '  heavy,'  was  used  of  syllables  pronounced 
without  stress,  the  weaker  or  lighter  syllables  of  a  word. 
The  term  TrposwSla  itself,  as  well  as  the  Latin  acccntus,  which 
is  used  to  translate  it,  comes  from  a  root  which  means  '  to 


1 1 2  GREEK  A  CCENT. 

sing  ;  '  and  in  O^ltiriing  the  name,  the  ancient  grammarians, 
both  Greek  and  Latin,  tell  us  that  it  is  a  singing  of  the  syllable. 
There  is  a  remarkable  passage  in  a  work  of  Dionysius  of 
Halicarnassus  (de  Comp.  Verb.,  11),  in  which  he  compares 
the  melody  of  speech  with  that  of  song.  The  melody  of 
spoken  language,  he  tells  us,  is  measured  by  a  single  interval, 
the  so-called  fifth,  or,  as  he  explains  it  immediately  after,  the 
interval  of  three  tones  and  a  semitone.  He  says  that  when 
the  voice  rises  to  the  acute,  it  does  not  go  higher  than  this 
interval ;  and  when  it  falls  off  again  to  the  grave,  it  does  not 
sink  lower  than  this  interval.  He  adds  that  the  two  intona 
tions,  the  acute  and  the  grave,  may  be  combined  in  the  same 
syllable,  and  that  such  syllables  are  said  to  be  circumflexed. 
It  is  perfectly  evident  that  he  is  here  speaking  of  the  accent, 
that  he  describes  it  as  a  difference  of  pitch,  and  that  he  makes 
this  difference  about  the  same  as  the  musical  interval  of  a  fifth, 
that  is  (as  he  himself  says),  three  tones  and  a  semitone.  All 
this  is  pretty  clear  ;  but  it  is  made  still  clearer  by  the  con 
trasted  description  of  music,  which  comes  directly  after  it. 
Music,  whether  vocal  or  instrumental,  uses  a  number  of  inter 
vals,  and  does  not  confine  itself  to  the  fifth  alone  (these  are 
his  own  words);  but  employs,  for  purposes  of  melody, 
first  the  octave  (this  being  first  named,  as  the  most  important 
interval),  and  the  fifth,  and  the  fourth,  and  the  full  tone,  and 
the  semitone,  and,  as  some  think,  even  the  quarter-tone  (the 
chromatic  diesis),  so  as  to  be  distinctly  perceived.  Further, 
he  says,  music  claims  the  right  to  subordinate  the  words  to 
the  tune,  instead  of  having  the  tune  subordinate  to  the  words  ; 
by  which  he  means  that  it  is  the  right  of  the  musician  to  sing 
the  words  to  any  tune  he  pleases,  without  reference  to  the 
natural  tune  (if  we  may  call  it  so)  which  by  the  accent  they 
have  in  spoken  utterance.  That  this  is  his  meaning  becomes 
abundantly  evident  from  a  subjoined  illustration.  He  quotes 
two  or  three  lines  from  a  chorus  of  Euripides,  and  points  out 
at  some  length  how  the  natural  tune  or  accent  of  the  words 
was  wholly  disregarded  in  the  music  to  which  they  were  sung. 
Thus,  the  first  word,  criya,  is  sung  upon  a  monotone,  both 
syllables  on  the  same  pitch,  though  the  spoken  word  had  two 
tones,  the  acute  and  the  grave,  and  indeed  both  of  them  com- 


GREEK  ACC. 

bined  in  the  circumflex  accent  of  its 
word,  apflv^rjs,  which  had  the  acute  on  the  second  syllable, 
the  music  gave  both  second  and  third  syllables  the  same  pitch, 
though  in  a  spoken  word  the  higher  pitch  of  the  acute  accent 
was  never  maintained  through  two  successive  syllables.  In 
TiOere,  the  natural  tune  of  the  word,  a  high  sound  followed 
by  two  low  ones,  was  completely  reversed  by  the  music,  the 
first  syllable  being  sung  to  a  lower  note  and  the  last  two  syl 
lables  to  a  higher  note.  In  /cruTretre,  the  circumflex  of  the 
second  syllable,  with  its  combination  of  acute  and  grave,  wa? 
lost  in  the  music,  that  syllable  being  sung  upon  a  single  note 
And  in  aTTOTrpofldre,  a  word  of  five  syllables  with  acute  accent 
on  the  middle  one,  the  higher  intonation,  which  belonged  to 
the  Trpo,  was  in  the  music  transferred  to  the  (3d.  These  are 
the  illustrations  and  explanations  given  by  Dionysius  himself, 
whose  authority  on  such  a  subject  must  be  very  high  from  his 
intelligence  and  learning,  as  also  from  his  date,  in  the  first 
century  before  our  era.  This  passage  alone,  if  there  were 
nothing  else  to  confirm  it,  would  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the 
melodic  character  of  the  Greek  accent. 

But  is  it  not  possible  that  this  elevation  of  pitch,  which 
characterized  the  accented  syllable,  was  accompanied  by  an 
increased  effort  of  the  vocal  organs,  by  a  greater  stress  of 
pronunciation,  such  as  marks  the  accented  syllable  in  our  own 
language  and  in  other  languages  of  modern  Europe  ?  It  is 
possible,  certainly ;  but  there  is  scarcely  any  evidence  to 
prove  it  true.  In  all  that  the  ancient  grammarians  and  other 
ancient  writers  have  left  us  on  the  Greek  accent — and  the 
aggregate  is  far  from  inconsiderable — there  seems  to  be  no 
statement  or  expression  which  implies  that  the  accented  sylla 
ble  was  pronounced  with  more  force  than  the  rest  of  the 
word.  No  such  implication  can  be  found  in  the  remarkable 
passage  just  referred  to,  where  Dionysius  speaks  of  the  mel 
ody  of  spoken  language.  We  might  perhaps  expect  to  find 
it  rather  in  a  following  section,  where  his  subject  is  the  rhythm 
of  spoken  language.  But  nothing  of  the  kind  appears  there. 
In  speaking  of  rhythm,  he  refers  to  quantity  of  syllables,  to 
the  succession  of  longs  and  shorts ;  and  he  remarks  that-  com 
mon  speech,  the  utterance  of  prose,  does  no  violence  to  these, 


1 1 4  GREEK  A  CCENT. 

but  keeps  the  syllables  long  and  short  according  to  their 
received  or  natural  quantity.  But  music,  which  disregards 
the  natural  tune  of  words,  disregards  likewise  their  natural 
rhythm  ;  it  changes  (so  he  says)  the  length  of  the  syllables, 
increasing  or  diminishing  their  quantity,  and  occasionally  even 
reversing  the  natural  proportions  ;  for  (he  adds),  instead  of 
making  its  own  musical  times  subordinate  to  the  natural 
quantity  of  the  syllables,  it  makes  the  quantity  of  the  sylla 
bles  subordinate  to  the  times  of  the  music.  In  all  this,  there 
is  no  hint  that  any  one  syllable  of  a  word  was  regularly  dis 
tinguished  from  the  others  by  its  more  forcible  enunciation. 
Gottling,  who  believes  that  the  accented  syllable  was  actually 
pronounced  with  greater  stress,  can  only  refer  in  support  of 
his  belief  to  the  modern  Phavorinus.  The  silence  of  the  an 
cient  authorities  may  not  prove  that  there  was  absolutely  no 
difference  in  stress  between  accented  and  unaccented  syllables  ; 
but  it  certainly  warrants  the  conclusion  that  the  difference,  if 
there  was  any,  cannot  have  been  great  or  striking  :  it  must 
have  been  far  slighter  than  in  English  or  in  modern  Greek. 
The  grand  fact  about  the  accented  syllabic,  to  the  mind  of  the 
ancients,  was  its  higher  pitch  ;  its  greater  stress,  if  it  had  any, 
was  either  not  noticed  by  them,  or  was  felt  to  be  compara 
tively  unimportant. 

The  same  conclusion — that  the  stress  of  voice  on  the  ac 
cented  syllable  was  little,  if  at  all,  greater  than  on  other  syllables 
— may  be  supported  by  probabilities  resting  on  other  grounds. 
It  is  the  natural  effect  of  a  decided  stress- accerft  to  weaken- 
the  following  syllables  of  the  word,  and  especially  the  one 
which  immediately  follows  the  accent,  so  that  the  vowel  of 
that  syllable  is  apt  to  be  shortened  or  to  be  omitted  alto 
gether.  In  our  own  language,  this  tendency  may  be  seen  in 
the  short  c  of  mystery  as  compared  with  the  long  sound  in 
mysterious,  and  in  the  suppressed  c  of  every,  wond(e)rous. 
In  Greek  such  changes  are  confined  to  a  few  words,  as  TLTTTC 
in  Homer  for  rl  Trore,  r]\6ov  for  earlier  i}\v6ov.  They  are 
perhaps  hardly  more  numerous  than  the  cases  where  an  ac 
cented  vowel  has  disappeared:  cases  like  dvyarpes  in  Homer 
for  Ovyarepes,  (Bfjv  for  effrjv,  etc.  So  far  from  being  disposed  to 
shorten  the  vowel  which  follows  the  accented  syllable,  the 


GREEK  A  CCENT.  1  1  5 


Greek  shows  rather  a  predilection  for  such  forms  as  av 
Ti6ri[jiiJ  \v6r]croi(j9ov.  Latin  proper  names  like  Dentatus, 
Modest  us,  Salernum,  the  Greeks  were  perfectly  able  to  pro 
nounce  with  their  Latin  accent  ;  there  was  nothing  in  their 
own  system  which  forbade  it  :  yet  we  often  find  such  words 
accented  on  the  first  syllable,  devraros,  MoSeo-ro?,  ZuX&pvov  — 
showing  that  an  accented  antepenult  followed  by  a  long  penult 
was  a  combination  agreeable  to  the  Greek  ear  and  regarded 
with  a  kind  of  preference. 

Another  consideration  which  goes  to  show  that  the  Greek 
accent  was  not  accompanied  by  any  very  decided  stress  of 
voice  is  found  in  the  structure  of  Greek  verse.  In  this,  the 
word-accent  is  wholly  disregarded,  the  ictus  of  the  verse  being 
quite  as  likely  to  fall  on  an  unaccented  as  on  an  accented  syl 
lable.  In  the  heroic  hexameter,  for  example,  we  know  that 
there  was  an  ictus,  or  verse-accent,  that  is,  a  special  stress  of 
voice,  on  the  first  syllable  of  each  dactyl  or  spondee.  But  if 
we  look  at  the  first  seven  lines  of  the  Iliad,  out  of  the  forty- 
two  cases  of  ictus  which  they  present,  only  sixteen  are  found 
on  syllables  which  have  the  written  accent.  Now  it  would 
seem  to  us  unnatural  in  our  own  language  to  take  the  words, 
"  regarded  with  admiration  and  uncommon  esteem,"  and  read 
them  as  a  hexameter,  "  regarded  with  admiration  and  uncom 
mon  esteem;"  or  to  take  the  line,  <('tis  as  moonlight  unto 
sunlight  or  as  water  unto  wine,"  and  read  it  as  an  iambic 
tetrameter  catalectic,  "  'tis  as  moonlight  unto  sunlight  or  as 
water  unto  wine."  But  we  must  suppose  that  the  Greeks  did 
something  very  much  like  this,  if  we  assume  that  with  them, 
as  with  us,  there  was  a  decided  stress  of  voice  laid  on  the 
accented  syllable.  It  is  true  that  there  is  something  hazard 
ous  in  such  reasoning.  The  Greeks,  in  the  construction  of 
their  verse,  may  have  treated  their  language  with  more  free 
dom  than  we  allow  in  the  treatment  of  ours.  Different  lan 
guages,  or,  rather,  the  people  who  use  them,  differ  widely  in 
this  respect.  Thus  the  German  poet  has  greater  liberty  than 
the  French  in  departing  from  the  established  forms  and  idioms 
of  prose  speech.  We  have  seen  that  in  Greek  music  the 
natural  tune  of  the  word,  the  differences  of  pitch  depending 
on  the  accent,  were  not  observed,  but  were  freely  superseded 


1 1 6  GREEK  A  CCENT. 

by  other  combinations  of  tones  at  the  pleasure  of  the  com 
poser.  If,  then,  the  Greeks  in  their  music  were  willing  to 
substitute  other  tones  for  those  given  by  the  accent  of  the 
spoken  language,  it  is  conceivable  that  in  their  verse  also  they 
may  have  been  willing  to  substitute  other  stresses  for  those  of 
ordinary  speech,  to  lay  the  emphasis  on  other  syllables,  ac 
cording  to  the  rhythmical  arrangement  of  the  poet.  Yet  we 
cannot  but  regard  it  as  highly  improbable  that  a  stress-accent, 
if  it  were  as  decided  as  ours,  should  be  wholly  neglected  and 
superseded  in  the  composition  of  verse.  And  in  this  view  we 
are  confirmed  by  the  modern  Greek,  which,  having  a  decided 
stress-accent,  makes  it,  as  we  do,  the  basis  or  determining 
element  of  its  verse-system. 

Taking  all  these  considerations  together,  we  hold  it  all  but 
certain  that  the  Greeks  did  not  lay  any  marked  or  forcible 
stress  on  the  accented  syllable.  It  is  even  doubtful  whether 
they  laid  any  stress  upon  it,  more  than  on  other  syllables  of 
the  word.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  in  the  history  of  their 
language  they  have  either  adopted  a  stress-accent,  or  have 
given  strength  to  a  weak  one  existing  from  the  first.  In  the 
modern  accent,  the  leading  element  is  stress,  and  difference  of 
pitch,  if  it  is  not  wanting,  has  at  any  rate  ceased  to  be  promi 
nent  and  uniform.  The  distinction  between  acute  and  circum 
flex  has  been  wholly  obliterated.  The  forms  S^Xwcrat,  '  to 
make  manifest,'  and  ^Xwcrat,  '  might  make  manifest,'  are 
undistinguishable  in  the  modern  pronunciation.  With  this 
change  in  the  character  of  the  accent  was  connected,  as  we 
just  saw,  the  adoption  of  accent  as  the  basis  of  versification. 
When  verses  began  to  be  constructed  on  this  basis,  they  were 
called  crri'xpi  nrokiriKOi,  'political'  or  'popular  verses,'  in 
contrast  with  the  old  quantitative  verses,  which  continued  to 
be  written,  as  a  kind  of  literary  exercise,  long  after  the  pro 
nunciation  on  which  they  were  founded  had  ceased  to  be 
heard.  Now  these  political  verses  were  composed  as  far  back 
as  the  eleventh  century,  and  probably  much  earlier.  When 
ever  they  began  to  be  made,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  Greek 
accent  had  already  changed  its  character,  and  had  come  to 
exhibit  a  decided  stress.  But  the  change,  we  may  presume, 
was  very  slow,  and  may  have  been  going  on  for  centuries  be- 


GREEK  A  CCENT.  1 1 7 

fore  the  stress  element  was  strong  enough  to  express  itself  in 
verse  composition.  It  is  quite  supposable,  therefore,  that  a 
weak  stress  may  have  been  heard  on  the  accented  syllable,  as 
regular  accompaniment,  even  in  the  time  of  Herodian,  the 
principal  authority  on  accent,  if  not  yet  earlier  in  the  time  of 
Aristophanes  of  Byzantium,  the  inventor  of  the  accentual 
signs.  If  this  were  so,  we  might  find  in  it  an  explanation  of 
the  fact  already  noticed,  that  the  last  syllable  of  an  oxytone 
word  -has  an  accent  written  upon  it,  even  when  its  tone 
changes  from  high  to  low.  In  j3acri\evs  eyevero,  the  grave 
accent  on  Xeu?  shows  (so  we  are  told)  that  it  was  pronounced 
on  a  low  tone.  But  why  then  should  it  have  any  mark  over 
it,  more  than  the  other  syllables  of  the  same  word  (3acri\evs  ? 
Or  why  should  pacriXevs,  which  in  this  case  has  no  high  tone, 
which  is  all  pronounced  on  a  low  tone,  have  any  mark  of 
accent  over  it,  more  than  an  enclitic  word,  more  than  eariv 
(for  instance)  in  ^dXewov  ea-riv,  where  the  verb  appears  with 
out  accent?  To  such  questions  it  might  be  replied,  not 
wholly  without  plausibility,  that  though  ftacriKew  in  the  case 
supposed  had  no  elevated  pitch,  no  accent  properly  so  called, 
its  last  syllable  was  yet  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  a 
slightly  superior  stress,  and  was  therefore  allowed  to  have  a 
distinctive  mark  over  it ;  while  the  enclitic  ecmv  was  written 
without  any  such  mark,  because  it  had  neither  elevated  pitch 
nor  superior  stress  on  either  of  its  two  syllables.  This,  I 
say,  would  be  a  possible  solution  of  the  difficulty.  But  there 
is  another  solution,  of  which  I  am  now  to  speak,  and  which 
brings  up  a  question  of  much  interest  for  the  theory  of  the 
Greek  accent. 

Did  the  Greek  accent  distinguish  only  two  tones,  a  high 
and  a  low  ?  Or  was  there  some  middle  tone,  having  a  regu 
lar  place  in  the  system,  some  intermediate  between  the  two 
extremes  ?  It  must  be  confessed  that  the  evidence  given  on 
this  point  by  the  ancient  writers  is  not  so  distinct  as  could  be 
wished.  ,  In  general,  they  speak  only  of  two  tones,  high  and 
low,  or  (as  they  term  them)  acute  and  grave.  Still,  they  clo 
not  explicitly  assert  that  all  grave  tones  were  equally  low. 
It  may  be  that  they  thought  it  important  only  to  distinguish 
the  high  tone,  as  dominating  the  whole  word,  and  that  dif- 


1 1 8  GREEK  A  CCENT. 

ferences  between  the  lower  tones  seemed  to  them  of  too  little 
practical  consequence  to  require  mention.  Yet  we  do  find  in 
ancient  writings  indications  of  a  middle  tone.  Thus  Aristotle 
(Rhet.,  iii.  I.  4)  speaks  of  three  "tones,  acute,  grave,  and 
middle  ;  "  though  it  is  possible  that  by  "  middle  "  here  he  in 
tends  the  circumflex,  which,  combining  as  it  does  both  acute 
and  grave,  might  be  regarded  as  having  an  intermediate  char 
acter.  But  the  Greek  grammarian  Tyrannic  of  Amisus,  as 
quoted  by  Varro,  enumerates  four  accents,  grave,  middle, 
acute,  and  circumflex.  Tyrannic,  indeed,  may  have  been 
speaking  of  the  Latin  accent ;  but  Varro  refers  to  other 
writers  as  recognizing  a  middle  accent,  Glaucus  of  Samos, 
Hermocrates  of  lasos,  and  the  Peripatetics  Theophrastus  and 
Athenodorus,  some,  if  not  all,  of  whom  must  have  referred  to 
the  Greek.  And  the  grammarian  Servius  says  :  "It  must  be 
understood  that  this  doctrine  of  a  middle  accent  is  no  inven 
tion  of  recent  times,  but  belongs  to  all  who  before  the  time  of 
Varro  and  Tyrannic  have  left  anything  on  accent ;  since  the 
majority  of  these,  and  the  most  distinguished  writers,  have 
made  mention  of  this  middle  accent,  all  of  whom  Varro  refers 
to  as  his  authorities."  This  language  of  Servius,  doubtless, 
overstates  the  case.  The  number  of  writers  who  expressly 
recognized  a  middle  accent  cannot  have  been  so  great  as  here 
represented.  But  a  reason  may  be  found  for  this  in  a  remark 
of  Servius  himself,  that  "the  middle  accent,  which  is  a  sort  of 
border  between  the  two  others,  resembles  the  grave  more  than 
it  does  the  acute,  and  is  therefore  reckoned  with  the  lower 
rather  than  with  the  higher  tone." 

The  evidence  of  a  middle  tone  which  has  come  to  us  from 
ancient  writers,  deficient  as  it  is  in  definiteness  and  con 
sistency,  seems  on  the  whole  sufficient  to  warrant  the  inquiry, 
whether  the  phenomena  themselves  of  the  Greek  accent  fur 
nish  any  indications  of  such  a  tone.  G.  Hermann,  in  his 
essay  De  cmendanda  ratione  Grammatics  Grcecce  (p.  66), 
suggested  that  the  grave  accent,  where  it  was  written  for  the 
acute  on  the  last  syllable  of  an  oxytone  word,  was  the  sign 
of  a  middle  tone,  intermediate  between  the  acute  and  the  un 
marked  grave.  On  this  point  Buttmann  also,  in  his  AnsfilJir- 
liche  Grammatik,  takes  substantially  the  same  ground.  More 


GREEK  A  CCENT.  1 1 9 

recently,   G.   Curtius,  reviewing  Bopp's  Accentuationssystem 
in  Jahn's  Jahrbucher  (1855,  vol.  71),  expresses  the  opinion 
that  the  grave  accent,  where  it  forms  the  second  part  of  the 
circumflex,  represents  not  the  ordinary  low  tone  of  the  word, 
but  an  intermediate  tone.    This  view  seems  to  have  been  sug 
gested  to  his  mind  by  the  Sanskrit  system  of  accentuation  : 
here,  the  udatta  (or    elevated    tone),   corresponding    to    the 
Greek  acute,  is  regularly  followed  in  the  next  syllable  by  the 
svarita,  which   certainly   differed   from  the  anudatta  (unele- 
vated,   depressed  tone)  of  the   other  syllables.     The   Indian 
grammarians  describe  the  svarita  as   a   combination   of  the 
udatta  and  anudatta,  similar  to  the  Greek  circumflex  ;  and 
this  must  clearly  have  been   its  character  when   used  as  an 
independent  accent.     But  where  it  is  the  mere   follower  of  an 
z/dV?//«,.  and  especially  where  it  belongs  to  a  short  syllable,  the 
statement  that  it  was  a  compound  accent,  a  circumflex,  seems 
far  from  probable  ;   we  could  much  more  easily  believe  it  to 
have  been  an  intermediate  tone.      Curtius  inti-mates  that  he 
would  not  confine  his  recognition  of  a  middle  tone  in  Greek 
to  the  last  part  of  the  circumflex   accent ;    yet    he   has    not 
actually  given  further  development    to    the    theory.      But    a 
recent  writer,  Franz  Misteli,  in  an  able  article  contributed  to 
the   1 7th  volume  of  Kuhn's  Zeitschrift,  lias  taken  it  up  and 
carried  it  to  a  much  greater  extent.      He  holds  that  the  acute 
accent  in  Greek,  as  in  Sanskrit  (?),  was  regularly  followed  by 
a  middle  tone,  this  middle  tone  being  either  written  as  the  last 
part  of  a  circumflex,  or  being  merely  understood  on  the  syl 
lable  which  comes  after  the  acute.      If  the  acute  stands  on  the 
last  syllable  of  a  word,  where  there  is  no  room  for  a  rm'ddle 
tone  after  it,  the  acute  itself  loses  its  high  pitch  and  becomes 
a  middle  tone,  represented    by  the    so-called    grave    accent. 
Only  at  the  end  of  a  sentence,  or  before  an  enclitic,  does  the 
acute  under  such  circumstances  retain  its  high  pitch,  and  the 
word  appear  as  an  oxytone.     This  theory  of  a  middle  tone 
Misteli  applies  with  much  ingenuity  to  account  for  the  general 
laws  of  Greek  accentuation.     In  showing  how  it  may  be  made 
to  answer  this  purpose,  I  shall  not  confine  myself  to  his  state 
ments,  but  shall  take  the  liberty  to  depart  from  them  in  vari 
ous  particulars,   and   shall  introduce  some  views   (especially 


1 20  GREEK  A  CCENT. 

those  on  Latin  accent)  which  do  not  appear  in  his  exhibition 
of  the  subject. 

The  general  laws  here  referred  to  are  the  four  following  : 
I.  The  acute  cannot  stand  on  any  syllable  before  the  ante 
penult.  2.  The  antepenult,  if  accented  at  all,  must  have  the 
acute  ;  but  it  cannot  be  accented  at  all,  if  the  ultima  is  long  : 
thus.  civOpwTTos,  but  avOpwirov.  3.  The  penult,  if  accented, 
must  have  the  acute,  when  the  ultima  is  long  (has  a  long  vowel- 
sound)  :  thus  avOpooTrov,  Toiavrr).  4-  A  long  penult  (one 
which  has  a  long  vowel  sound),  if  accented  at  all,  must  have 
the  circumflex  when  the  ultima  is  short  :  thus  TOIOVTOS. 

The  Greek  accent  is  confined  to  the  last  three  syllables  of  a 
word.  But  in  Sanskrit  there  is  no  such  restriction.  The  ac 
cent  may  go  back  to  any  syllable,  however  far  removed  from 
the  end  of  the  word.  In  dbubodhishdmahi^  l  we  wished  to 
know,'  it  stands  at  the  beginning  of  a  seven-syllable  word. 
The  same  freedom,  we  may  presume,  belonged  to  the  primi 
tive  Indo-European  language.  There  must  have  been  some 
time,  therefore,  in  the  history  of  the  Greek  language,  whether 
before  or  after  it  became  distinctively  Greek,  when  a  change 
took  place  in  this  respect— some  time  when  all  accents  stand 
ing  before  an  antepenult  were  carried  forward  and  thrown 
upon  one  of  the  last  three  syllables.  If  we  ask  for  the  cause 
of  such  a  change,  none  could  be  imagined  more  natural  or 
probable  than  a  fondness  for  some  particular  succession  of 
tones  at  the  end  of  a  word.  If  the  earlier  accentuation  had 
a  threefold  distinction  of  tones,  a  high  tone,  middle  tone,  and 
low  tone,  we  can  easily  conceive  that  this  succession,  these 
three  tones  in  the  order  of  their  height,  should  have  been 
found  an  agreeable  cadence  for  the  close  of  a  word.  It  is  a 
cadence  which  appears  in  Sanskrit  in  very  many  words  ;  it 
may  have  been  common  in  the  Indo-European  language  prior 
to  the  separation  of  its  branches.  What  we  should  have  to 
suppose  in  regard  to  the  ancestors  of  the  Greeks  would  be 
that  at  some  time  a  special  taste  or  fondness  for  this  cadence 
developed  itself  among  them,  with  a  dislike  for  any  cadence 
in  which  the  high  and  middle  tones  were  followed  by  more 
than  one  low  tone,  so  that,  in  order  to  secure  what  they  liked 
and  avoid  what  they  did  not,  like,  they  came  at  length  to 


GREEK  A  CCENT.  1 2 1 

change  the  accent  of  words,  to  shift  it  from  an  earlier  to  a 
later  syllable.  Changes  in  an  opposite  direction,  from  a  later 
syllable  to  an  earlier,  were  not  made,  even  to  secure  this 
favorite  cadence  ;  or,  if  such  a  change  took  place  in  particular 
cases,  it  did  not  become  the  general  law.  One  thing  further 
we  must  suppose,  to  account  for  the  Greek  accent :  that  in  this 
cadence  the  Greeks  preferred  that  the  final  low  tone  of  the 
word  should  be  a  short  one  :  they  did  not  like  to  have  it 
maintained  through  a  long  syllable.  Our  hypothesis,  then, 
may  be  stated  in  a  single  sentence — that  the  early  Greeks 
changed  the  older  accent  of  words  so  as  to  secure  this  ca 
dence—high  tone,  middle  tone,  short  low  tone — wherever  it 
could  be  secured  without  throwing  back  the  accent.  This 
single  hypothesis  will  be  found  sufficient  to  account  for  the 
four  general  laws  already  given.  Thus  : — 

1.  "The   accent  cannot  stand  on   any  syllable   before  the 
antepenult."     In  e'Xe/Trero,  '  was  left,'  the  accent  (it  can  hardly 
be    doubted)  was   originally  placed    on    the    augment,   as   it 
regularly  is  in  Sanskrit  :   it  fell,  therefore,  on  the  syllable  be 
fore  the  antepenult.     The  middle  tone  would  then  fall  on  the 
antepenult  Xet,   and  the  remaining  two   syllables   ire  and  TO 
would  have  the  low  tone.      But  the  preferred  cadence  allowed 
only  one  syllable,  and  that  a  short  one,  for  the  low  tone  at  the 
end  of  the  word.      It  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  place  the 
high  tone  or  accent  on  the  antepenult  \ei,  leaving  Tre  for  the 
middle  tone  and  TO  for  the  low  tone. 

2.  "  The  antepenult,   if    accented   at    all,    must  have    the 
acute."     Of  course,  if  accented  at  all,  it  must  have  either  the 
acute   or  the   circumflex.      Suppose,   then,  that  in   the   word 
eXetrreTo  the   circumflex  accent  was  placed  on  the  antepenult 
Xei  :   that  syllable,  from  the  nature  of  the  circumflex,  would 
have  the  high  tone  on  the  first  part  and  the  middle  tone  on 
the  last  ;  and  thus  again  as  before  there  would  be  two  sylla 
bles,  Tre  and  TO,   for   the   low  tone.     The  circumflex  on  the 
antepenult  would,  therefore,  be  incompatible  with  the  cadence 
required.      But  the  rule  asserts  also  "  that  the  antepenult  can 
not  have  any  accent,  even  the  acute,  if  the  ultima  is  long." 
For  suppose  that  the  first  person  eXetTro^v  could  have  the 
acute,  the  high  tone,  on  the  antepenult   Xet :   the  middle  tone 


1 2  2  GREEK  A  CCENT. 

would  fall  on  TTO,  and  the  low  tone  on  /A^V,  a  long  syllable. 
But  the  cadence  required  was  "  high  tone,  middle  tone,  short 
low  tone."  Hence  the  high  tone  or  acute  must  be  placed  on 
the  penult  TTO,  and  the  final  long  syllable  ^v  must  be  divided, 
between  the  other  two  tones,  its  first  half  being  sounded  with 
the  middle  tone,  and  its  last  half  (which,  of  course,  has  the 
quantity  of  a  short  syllable)  being  sounded  with  the  low  tone. 

3.  "The  penult,  if  accented,  must  have  the  acute  when 
the  ultima  has  a  long  vowel."  For  in  the  feminine  Toiavrr), 
'  such,'  suppose  that  the  circumflex  could  stand  on  the  penult 
av.  This  syllabic,  then,  by  the  nature  of  the  circumflex, 
would  have  both  high  tone  and  middle  tone,  and  the  low  tone 
would  fall  on  T??,  a  long  syllable,  which  is  inconsistent  with 
the  required  cadence.  To  secure  this,  the  high  tone,  or  acute 
accent,  must  be  placed  on  the  penult  av,  and  the  final  long  TIJ 
must  be  divided  between  the  other  two  tones,  the  first  short 
time  contained  in  it  being  sounded  with  the  middle  tone,  and 
the  last  short  time  with  the  low. 

4-  "A  penult  with  long  vowel-sound,  if  accented  at  all, 
must  have  the  circumflex  when  the  ultima  has  a  short  vowel." 
For  suppose  that  the  masculine  roioOro?,  '  such,'  had  the  acute 
or  high  tone  on  the  penult  ov  ;  the  middle  tone  would  then 
fall  on  the  last  syllable  TO?,  and  the  final  low  tone  would  be 
excluded.  In  many  words,  as  in  ^070?,  '  speech,'  this  was 
something  unavoidable  :  the  high  tone  falling  onXo,  the  short 
penult,  must  fill  that  syllable,  the  middle  tone  must  fill  the  last 
short  syllable  709,  and  there  is  no  room  left  for  the  closing  low 
tone.  But  with  a  penult  long  by  nature,  as  in  TOLOVTOS'  there 
was  no  such  necessity.  It  was  enough  to  divide  the  long  ov 
between  the  high  tone  and  middle  tone— in  other  words,  to 
sound  it  with  the  circumflex  accent  :  the  ultima  TO?  was  then 
left  for  the  short  low  tone,  and  the  desired  cadence  was  thus 
obtained. 

We  see,  then,  that  these  four  general  rules  of  Greek  accent, 
which  have  the  appearance  of  being  unconnected,  arbitrary, 
and  capricious,  are  all  of  them  direct  corollaries  from  a  single 
hypothesis,  all  of  them  necessary  results  from  the  extension 
of  a  single  cadence — high  tone,  middle  tone,  short  lo\v  tone — 
at  the  end  of  words.  But  what  shall  we  say  of  polysyllables 


GREEK  A  CCENT.  1 2  3 

like  ^aXe-Tro?,  '  harsh,'  with  acute  on  the  last  syllabic,  or 
like  ^aXe-Trw?,  'harshly,'  with  circumflex  on  the  last  syllable, 
or  like  XeXv/zez/o?,  *  having  been  loosed,'  with  acute  on  the  pe 
nult  before  a  short  ultima  ?  In  these  words  there  is  room  for 
the  favorite  cadence,  but  they  do  not  have  it  :  they  close 
either  with  the  high  tone  itself  (as  in  %aXe7ro?),  or  with  the 
high  tone  followed  by  the  middle  (as  in  ^aXevrco?,  XeX'j/LteVo?). 
How  can  this  be  accounted  for?  By  the  last  clause  in  our 
hypothesis  :  "  The  Greeks  changed  the  older  accent  of  their 
words,  so  as  to  secure  the  favorite  cadence,  wherever  this 
could  be  secured  without  throwing  back  the  accent ;"  We  hold 
it  to  be  true,  as  a  general  fact,  that  words  like  those  just  given 
were  thus  accented  in  the  primitive  period — i.e.  either  on  the 
last  syllable,  or  on  the  penult  with  short  ultima  following — 
and  that  they  did  not  assume  the  threefold  cadence,  because 
the  tendency  to  this  was  not  strong  enough  to  produce  a  re 
traction  of  the  accent  from  a  later  to  an  earlier  syllable.  By 
this  we  do  not  mean  that  such  a  retraction  never  occurred. 
It  may  have  taken  place  in  numerous  instances,  but  it  never 
became  the  general  law.  And  thus  the  Greek  has  many 
oxytones,  which  of  course  end  with  a  high  tone  ;  many  pe- 
rispomena,  which  end  with  a  middle  tone  ;  and  not  a  few  pa- 
roxytones  with  short  ultima,  which  likewise  end  with  a  middle 
tone  :  and  these,  not  in  short  words  only,  when  the  full 
cadence  was  impossible,  but  in  very  many  longer  words, 
where  there  was  room  enough  and  to  spare  for  the  succession 
of  '  high  tone,  middle  tone,  and  short  low  tone.' 

But  there  was  one  branch  of  the  Greek  people— the  /Eoli- 
ans  of  Asia  Minor — which  went  farther  than  the  rest  in  the 
fondness  for  this  cadence.  The  ^Eolians  did  not  hesitate  to 
retract  the  accent  for  the  purpose  of  securing  it.  Thus  Xe\u//,e- 
z/o<?  was  changed  by  them  to  XeXuyLte^o?,  ^aXevro?  to  ^aXevro?, 
^aXeTTw?  to  ^aXcTTO)? — ^aXe-Tro)?  they  could  not  say,  for  that 
would  make  a  long  low  tone.  If  there  was  not  room  for  the 
complete  succession  of  three  tones,  they  secured  as  much  of 
it  as  they  could,  saying  (for  instance)  cro^o?  with  high  tone 
and  middle  tone,  instead  of  the  common  Greek  0-0^09,  'wise,' 
an  oxytone  word.  Hence  in  the  /Eolic  dialect  the  only  oxy 
tones  were  monosyllables,  and  even  these  were  oxytone  only 


1 24  GREEK  A  CCENT. 

when  the  vowel  was  short,  as  the  articles  rov,  TO,  ra.  If  the 
vowel  was  long,  there  was  room  for  a  middle  tone  after  the 
high  tone  :  the  monosyllable  was  then  pronounced  with  cir 
cumflex  accent,  as  r-fjv,  rot)?,  instead  of  the  common  Greek 
TTfv,  TOI;?.  It  was  only  in  prepositions  and  conjunctions  that  the 
^Eolic,  in  agreement  with  the  other  Greek  dialects,  admitted 
oxytone  words  of  greater  extent  than  one  short  syllable. 

We  observe  now  that  a  similar  hypothesis  may  be  used  to 
explain  the  peculiarities  of  Latin  accentuation.  The  Latin, 
beside  the  acute  accent,  or  high  tone,  has  a  circumflex,  which 
it  uses  just  where  the^Eolic  dialect  would  use  the  circumflex — 
that  is,  on  all  monosyllables  with  long  vowel  (except  only  ne 
with  the  imperative),  and  on  all  penults  with  long  vowel  fol 
lowed  by  short  ultima.  On  all  other  accented  syllables  the 
acute  was  used  :  viz.,  on  antepenults  followed  by  short  penult, 
on  long  penults  followed  by  long  ultima,  on  all  penults  long 
only  by  position,  on  short  penults  of  dissyllables,  and  on  all 
monosyllables  with  short  vowel,  enclitics  of  course  excepted. 
It  is  evident  that  in  changing  the  primitive  accent  the  Latin 
has  not  confined  itself  to  one  direction,  from  earlier  to  later 
syllables  :  like  the  ALolic  Greek,  it  has  freely  moved  the  ac 
cent  backward,  from  later  syllables  to  earlier,  in  order  to 
secure  the  desired  cadence.  But  the  cadence  required  to 
account  for  the  Latin  accent  is  in  one  respect  different  from 
that  which  served  to  explain  the  Greek.  The  Greek  would 
not  allow  the  middle  tone  to  be  followed  by  a  long  low  tone  : 
the  Latin  would  not  allow  the  low  tone  to  be  preceded  by  a 
long  middle  tone,  a  middle  tone  extending  over  the  whole  of 
a  long  syllable,  whether  long  by  nature  or  by  position.  Hence 
for  the  Latin  the  cadence  becomes  "high  tone,  short  middle 
tone,  low  tone."  For  example,  in  Icgcre,  Icgcres,  Icgcrct,  the 
low  tone  fell  on  the  last  syllable,  re,  res,  ret,  without  reference 
to  its  quantity,  whether  long  or  short ;  the  middle  tone  on  the 
short  penult^,  and  the  high  tone  on  the  antepenult  le.  This 
example  is  enough  to  show  that,  by  the  necessity  of  such  a 
cadence,  the  accent  could  never  go  farther  back  than  the 
antepenult ;  that  the  antepenult,  if  accented  at  all,  must  take 
the  acute  ;  and  that  the  antepenult  could  only  be  accented 
when  the  penult  was  short.  In  such  forms  as  gaudere  Q^  gait- 


GREEK  A  CCENT,  1 2  5 

dcrct,  the  acute  must  stand  on  the  long  penult  de  ;  but  if  the 
desired  cadence  is  to  be  obtained,  it  must  admit  the  middle 
tone  to  the  latter  half  of  the  long  vowel,  for  the  short  ultima 
has  only  room  enough  for  the  low  tone  :  the  word,  therefore, 
could  only  have  the  circumflex  (the  combination  of  high  and 
middle  tone)  on  the  penult.  But  in  forms  like  gaitdcrcs,  where 
both  penult  and  ultima  have  long  vowels,  the  Latin  preferred 
to  divide  the  long  ultima  res  between  the  middle  and  low 
tones,  leaving  only  the  high  tone  for  the  penult  dc :  the  word, 
then,  has  the  acute  on  the  penult.  So  too  have  forms  like 
legendus,  where  the  penult  has  a  short  vowel,  and  is  only  long 
by  position.  Here  the  circumflex  is  impossible  :  the  short 
vowel  in  gen  cannot  be  divided  between  two  tones,  the  high 
and  middle  ;  gen  must  have  the  high  tone,  dus  the  middle, 
and  the  low  tone  is  excluded  by  the  necessity  of  the  case.  In 
legcndi,  the  cadence  could  be  made  complete  by  dividing  the 
long  di  between  the  middle  and  low  tones  ;  but  in  legendus 
it  is  necessarily  incomplete,  as  much  as  in  legit  or  legunt,  where 
both  vowels  are  short,  or  in  the  Greek  \oyo$,  having  only  the 
high  and  middle  tones. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  go  further  into  details  to  show  that  all 
features  of  the  Latin  accentuation  may  be  accounted  for  by  the 
assumed  tendency  to  close  all  words  with  the  succession  of 
"  high  tone,  middle  tone,  low  tone,"  or  so  much  of  it  as  pos 
sible,  consistently  with  the  one  restriction  that  the  low  tone 
must  never  have  before  it  a  middle  tone  which  occupied  the 
whole  of  a  long  syllable.  But  if  we  compare  the  Greek  ac 
centuation  with  the  Latin,  and  both  with  that  freer  system  of 
primitive  Indo-European  speech  which  is  best  represented  to 
us  by  the  Sanskrit,  we  may  naturally  conclude  that  the  first 
step  in  the  series  of  changes  which  gave  the  accentual  systems 
of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  their  peculiar  character  was  caused 
by  a  simple  distaste  for  a  succession  of  low-toned  syllables  at 
the  end  of  a  word,  I  repeat,  the  beginning  of  a  special  Greek 
and  Roman  accentuation  would  seem  to  have  sprung  from  the 
mere  unwillingness  to  hear  more  than  one  low-tone  syllable 
at  the  end  of  a  word.  This  unwillingness,  carried  into  prac 
tical  effect,  would  confine  the  accent  (that  is,  the  high  tone) 
to  the  last  three  syllables  of  the  word.  But  it  would  not 


1 20  GREEK  A  CCENT. 

cause  any  retraction  of  the  accent  ;  it  would  allow  such  forms 
as  ^aXeTTo?,  %<zXe7r£>9,  XeXu/u-eVo?  ;  for  these  have  not  even  one 
low  tone,  still  less  have  they  a  succession  of  low  tones  at  the 
end.  And  further,  this  simple  distaste  or  unwillingness,  as  it 
implies  no  restriction  on  the  long  or  short  quantity  of  the  single 
tones,  would  allow  such  forms  as  eXe/Tro/^y,  avOpwirov,  in 
Greek,  and  such  forms  zsgauderet,  legend  us,  in  Latin.  This 
first  step  we  may  naturally  suppose  to  have  been  made  in  the 
Graeco-Latin  or  Graeco-Italican  period — that  is,  while  the 
common  ancestors  of  these  peoples  spoke  a  language,  differing 
indeed  from  the  original  Indo-European,  but  not  yet  divided 
into  branches  having  a  distinct  character  as  Greek,  and  Italican 
or  Latin.  But  the  next  step  must  have  been  taken  after  this 
division,  as  it  is  different  in  the  two  branches.  In  the  Greek, 
it  springs  from  a  distaste  for  a  long  low  tone,  .a  low  tone 
stretching  through  a  whole  long  syllable,  following  the  high 
and  middle  tones  at  the  close  of  a  word.  This  would  require 
eXenro/Arjv  instead  of  eXetTro^z1,  dvOpaiTrov  instead  of  civOp^Trov. 
The  corresponding  step  in  the  Latin  springs  from  a  distaste 
for  a  long  middle  tone,  a  middle  tone  stretching  through  a 
whole  long  syllable,  between  the  high  and  low  tones  at  the 
close  of  a  word.  This  would  require  gandvrcs  instead  ofgau- 
dcrcs,  legvndus  instead  of  legendus.  In  Greek  the  effect  of 
this  second  step  was  to  make  the  cadence,  "high  tone,  mid 
dle  tone,  short  low  tone,"  the  prevailing  one  for  words  which 
were  long  enough  to  admit  of  it ;  though  there  still  remained 
a  large  number  of  words,  represented  by  ^'aXeTro?,  ^aXe-Trw?, 
XeXu/Ltez'o?,  which  did  not  have  it.  Now  one  section  of  the 
Greek  race,  the  /Eolic  of  Asia,  went  further  than  this  :  they 
took  a  third  step,  probably  much  later  than  the  second  ;  they 
threw  back  the  accent  of  these  words,  so  as  to  make  the  already 
prevailing  cadence  universal,  so  far  at  least  as  the  length  of 
the  word  would  allow.  Whether  the  whole  Italican  race,  in  all 
its  branches,  Umbrian,  Oscan,  Sabine,  etc.,  took  a  similar 
third  step,  we  are  unable  to  say.  It  is  certain  that  one  branch 
did  so,  the  Latins  ;  they  threw  back  the  accent,  so  that  the 
cadence  already  prevailing  should  be  made  universal,  as  far  as 
the  length  of  the  word  would  allow. 

Perhaps  I  should  leave  a  false  impression,  if  I  were  to  close 


GREEK  A  CCENT.  1 2  / 

without  calling  attention  in  one  word  to  the  hypothetical  char 
acter  of  what  has  been  said  here  about  a  middle  tone.  The 
existence  of  a  middle  tone  in  Greek  and  Latin  has  a  good  deal 
of  positive  ancient  testimony  in  its  favor.  But  that  a  high 
tone,  when  it  did  not  come  at  the  end  of  a  word,  was  regularly 
followed  by  a  middle  tone,  is  a  proposition  which,  however 
supported  by  Sanskrit  analogies,  has  no  direct  evidence  in  the 
statements  of,  the  ancient  writers.  And  of  course,  if  there 
were  no  doubt  of  its  truth,  still  the  use  here  made  of  it  to  ac 
count  for  the  ante-historic  changes  and  the  earliest  historical 
appearances  of  Greek  and  Latin  accentuation,  would  be 
purely  hypothetical.  At  the  same  time,  it  may  be  said  witli 
justice,  that  the  hypothesis  is  so  natural  in  itself,  it  is  so 
readily  suggested  by  known  facts,  and  it  offers  so  simple  and 
perfect  an  explanation  for  a  variety  of  seemingly  unconnected 
and  capricious  phenomena,  that  one  can  hardly  help  believing 
that  it  has  a  foundation  in  truth. 

To  some  persons  it  may  seem  hard  to  believe  that  the  ordi 
nary  utterance  of  discourse  and  conversation  should  have  had 
so  much  of  musical  intonation  :  that  this  threefold  distinction 
of  tone  should  have  found  place  in  it  as  a  recognized  and  con 
stant  element.  But  in  the  Chinese,  and  the  languages  cog 
nate  to  it,  as  spoken  at  the  present  day,  we  find  the  musical 
element  playing  a  much  larger  and  more  important  part.  In 
some  of  the  popular  dialects  of  China,  a  large  proportion  of 
the  syllables  which  make  up  the  language  are  pronounced 
with  seven  or  eight  intonations  :  thus,  as  a  short  abrupt  mono 
tone  (compare  the  English  preposition  to  in  its  ordinary  short 
pronunciation)  ;  or  as  a  prolonged  monotone  (compare  the 
English  numeral  tivo)  ;  or  with  mixed  falling  tone  (like  the 
Greek  circumflexed  TOI))  ;  or  with  mixed  rising  tone  (like  the 
English  two  at  the  end  of  a  question:  "  two  ?  ")  \  or  with 
.similar  intonations  duplicated  on  a  lower  key.  Thus  the  same 
syllabic  may  be  pronounced  in  seven  or  eight  different  ways, 
having  each  their  special  and  widely  diverse  meanings.  Com 
pared  with  such  complexity  of  musical  intonation,  that  which 
we  have  hypothetically  ascribcd'to  the  early  speakers  of  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Sanskrit,  and  the  yet  earlier  speakers  of  the  undi 
vided  Indo-European  speech,  is  a  very  simple  and  easy  matter. 


VII* 

ON  THE  BYZANTINE  GREEK  PRONUNCIATION 
OF  THE  TENTH  CENTURY,  AS  ILLUSTRA 
TED  BY  A  MANUSCRIPT  IN  THE  BODLEIAN 
LIBRARY. 

1870. 

IN  the  second  part  of  Mr.  Alexander  J.  Ellis's  work  on 
"  Early  English  Pronunciation,"  mention  is  made  (pp.  5J6- 
527)  of  a  document  which  seems  to  me  of  considerable  inte 
rest  in  reference  to  the  history  of  Greek  pronunciation.  It 
consists  of  a  few  manuscript  leaves,  written  apparently  by  an 
Anglo-Saxon  hand,  not  far  from  a  thousand  years  ago.  On 
these  leaves  are  given  passages  from  the  Greek  text  of  the 
Septuagint,  written  not  in  Greek,  but  in  Anglo-Saxon  char 
acters.  They  are  Anglo-Saxon  transliterations  of  the  Greek 
Septuagint,  in  which  it  seems  to  have  been  the  object  of  the 
transliterator  to  represent,  at  least  approximately,  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  letters  the  current  pronunciation  of  the  Greek  words. 
These  transliterations  were  noticed  as  long  ago  as  1705,  by 
the  famous  Anglo-Saxon  scholar  Hickes,  in  the  preface  to  his 
Lingnarnin  Veterum  Scptciitrionaliuin  Tlicsaurns  (pp.  xi— 
xiii).  The  codex  in  which  they  are  found  is  of  a  composite 
and  fragmentary  character.  There  is  a  brief  account  of  it  in 
the  second  volume  of  Hickes'  Thesaurus,  with  a  description 
of  its  contents,  given  by  Humphrey  Wanley.  Mr.  Ellis  de 
scribes  it  more  at  length,  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  G.  Waring 
of  Oxford.  He  speaks  of  it  as  a  small  quarto  volume,  con 
taining  several  unconnected  pieces  of  great  age  and  value. 
Thus,  in  folios  1-8,  we  have  part  of  the  treatise  entitled  De 
Conjugationibus  distinguendis ,  by  the  grammarian  Eutychius  ; 
in  folios  10-18,  an  Anglo-Saxon  homily  on  the  finding  of  the 
cross  by  St.  Helena,  the  mother  of  the  Emperor  Constantine  ; 
in  folios  20-22,  a  Lunar  and  Paschal  Calendar  for  the  years 
817-832  ;  in  folio  23,  Pauca  dc  Alcjisuris  ct  Pondcribus, ''  a  few 


GREEK  PR  O  NUN  CIA  TION.  1 29 

statements  on  weights  and  measures  ; '  and  in  folios  37  to  the 
end  of  the  volume,  the  first  book  of  Ovid's  Ars  Amatoria. 
It  is  a  curious  fact  that  three  of  these  pieces — the  Eutychius, 
the  Pauca  de  Mcnsuris,  and  the  Ovid's  Ars  Amatoria — have 
a  number  of  Welsh  glosses,  renderings  of  Latin  words  and 
phrases  into  the  Welsh  of  that  time.  Zeuss,  who  makes 
much  use  of  these  in  his  Grammatica  Celtica,  refers  them  to 
the  latter  part  of  the  eighth  or  the  earlier  part  of  the  ninth 
century.  He  pronounces  them  the  oldest  monuments  of  the 
Welsh  language  ;  and  regrets  that  they  are  too  scanty  to  show 
us  the  system  of  the  language  as  it  then  was.  From  similar 
material,  but  more  abundant,  he  has  been  able  to  reconstruct 
the  Irish  of  the  ninth  century  ;  for  the  Welsh,  there  is  no  suf 
ficient  material  before  the  twelfth.  This,  however,  is  aside 
from  our  present  subject.  The  only  parts  of  the  manuscript 
which  concern  us  now  are  folio  19  and  folios  24-36.  These 
contain  extracts  from  the  Septuagint,  with  the  corresponding 
passages  from  the  Itala  (or  old  Italian,  ante-Vulgate,  version). 
And,  of  these,  we  may  leave  out  of  consideration  folios 
24-28,  where  the  Greek  text  is  given  in  Greek  characters, 
with  many  inaccuracies,  which  show  that  the  copyist  had  but 
little  acquaintance  with  the  Greek  language.  There  remain 
then  folio  19  and  folios  28  to  36,  in  which  the  Greek  text  is 
given  in  Anglo-Saxon  characters.  Unfortunately  this  trans 
literated  text  has  never  been  published  as  a  whole.  But 
Hickes  in  his  preface  before  referred  to  has  given  specimens 
of  it,  which  belong  to  the  1st  and  22d  chapters  of  Genesis, 
the  42 d  Psalm,  and  the  4th,  5th,  and  55th  chapters  of  Isaiah  : 
a  few  verses  from  each,  in  all  25  verses.  These  same  speci 
mens  are  reprinted  by  Ellis,  in  a  corrected  form,  having  been 
carefully  collated  with  the  manuscript  by  Mr.  Waring.  In 
our  remarks  on  Greek  pronunciation  as  indicated  by  the 
manuscript,  we  are  confined  of  necessity  to  these  25  verses  ; 
but  the  evidence  they  give  is  probably  as  distinct  on  most 
points  as  we  should  be  able  to  draw  from  an  examination  of 
the  whole  text. 

But,  before  taking  up  particular  points  of  Greek  pronuncia 
tion,  it  may  be   well  to   notice   one  or   two   questions   which 
naturally  suggest  themselves.     What  is  the  age  of  this  manu- 
9 


1 30  GREEK  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

script  ?  On  this  point  I  do  not  find  that  Hickes  expresses 
any  judgment.  Mr.  Waring  thinks  that  it  was  written  in  the 
last  half  of  the  tenth  century.  His  opinion  does  not  seem  to 
be  founded  on  the  forms  of  the  letters,  though  these  would 
probably  give  ground  for  a  near  guess  to  one  expert  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  diplomacy,  but  on  external  or  historical  reasons.  It  is 
not  likely  that  an  Anglo-Saxon,  even  of  the  better  educated 
clergy,  would  have  known  or  cared  much  about  the  Greek 
pronunciation  of  his  time,  unless  his  interest  had  been  awak 
ened  and  his  information  extended  by  living  communication 
with  Greek  persons.-  Now  Mr.  Waring  observes  that  Eadgith, 
an  Anglo-Saxon  princess,  married  Otho  I.  of  Germany  in 
930,  and  her  son  Otho  II.  married  Theophania,  a  Greek  prin 
cess,  in  972.  He  supposes  that  "  at  the  court  of  Otho  a 
constant  connection  was  kept  up  with  the  Anglo-Saxons  and 
the  Greeks,  and  thus  a  means  was  opened  for  the  priests  of 
the  former  to  receive  some  tincture  of  Hellenic  letters.  We 
shall  therefore  hardly  be  wrong,"  he  says,  "  in  referring  such 
transcriptions  to  the  latter  part  of  the  tenth  century.  Want 
of  opportunity  is  against  an  earlier  date,  and  the  confu 
sion  and  ruin  occasioned  by  the  Danish  invasion  in  the  early 
part  of  the  eleventh  century,  the  close  connection  of  Canute 
with  Rome,  and  the  subsequent  Norman  influence  through 
Edward  the  Confessor,  render  a  later  date  almost  impossi 
ble."  To  these  historical  reasonings,  which  do  not  seem  to 
me  very  decisive,  he  adds  "the  agreement  of  the  Saxon 
homily  in  the  same  book  with  the  language  of  the  tenth 
centthry  ;  "  and  we  may  the  more  readily  accept  his  conclu 
sion,  as  most  of  the  extant  Anglo-Saxon  manuscripts  belong 
to  that  century. 

Is  it  certain  that  the  scribe  intended  his  transliteration  to 
be  a  phonetic  one,  that  he  aimed  to  represent  the  sounds 
rather  than  the  letters  of  the  Greek  text  ?  On  this  point 
there  seems  to  be  no  reasonable  question.  The  single  fact 
that  he  represents  OL  uniformly  by  the  letter  y  may  be  con 
sidered  decisive  ;  no  reason  can  be  imagined  for  this  except 
a  desire  to  indicate  the  pronunciation.  Neither  the  Greek 
letters  themselves,  nor  the  o&  diphthong  which  the  Romans 
used  for  them,  could  suggest  a  y  as  the  symbol.  It  must  be 


GREEK  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  1 3 1 

admitted,  indeed,  that  our  writer  is  not  uninfluenced  by  the 
Roman  mode  of  writing  Greek  words.  Occasional  variations 
from  his  normal  method  can  be  traced  to  this  influence. 
Thus,  in  general,  he  takes  no  notice  of  the  rough  breathing, 
which  undoubtedly  was  no  longer  pronounced  in  his  time  ; 
we  may  presume,  therefore,  that  in  the  very  few  cases  (six 
only  out  of  seventy-nine  in  the  verses  before  us)  where  he 
writes  it  by  //,  he  was  affected  by  the  ordinary  Roman  tran 
scription.  For  ai  he  usually  writes  a  simple  c  (pronounced 
nearly  as  our  e  in  they)  ;  in  a  few  instances  (eleven  only  out 
of  eighty-eight),  he  writes  CB,  as  in  the  ordinary  Roman  tran 
scription.  In  this  case  the  variation  was  the  more  excusable, 
because  the  writer  was  probably  accustomed  in  Latin  texts 
to  sound  ce  exactly  as  he  did  e.  So  as  to  the  consonant  (/>, 
which  he  generally  represents  by//  if  in  two  instances  out  of 
fifteen  he  represents  it  as  the  Romans  did,  by//*,  he  certainly 
did  not  think  of  ph  as  having  any  sound  different  from  f. 
Other  variations  and  inconsistencies  might  be  pointed  out ; 
but  with  one  remarkable  exception,  of  which  we  shall  speak 
further  on,  the  cases  of  deviation  from  the  rule  bear  only  a 
very  small  proportion  to  those  of  conformity  with  it.  We 
are  thus  able  to  make  out  in  all  points  what  may  be  called 
the  system  of  the  writer,  his  normal  method.  We  see  clearly 
what  letters  he  thought  best  fitted  to  represent  the  several 
vowels,  diphthongs,  and  consonants  of  the  Greek. 

We  proceed  now  to  examine  in  detail  this  system  of  nota 
tion,  and  to  point  out  some  conclusions  which  may  be  drawn 
from  it  as  to  the  current  pronunciation  of  Greek  in  the,  time 
of  the  writer.  The  vowel  a  he  represents,  as  we  should  ex 
pect,  by  a ;  e,  by  e ;  i,  by  i ;  o  and  w,  by  o.  There  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  Greek  pronunciation  of  these 
vowels  has  altered  since  the  earliest  times,  except  that  the 
distinction  of  long  and  short  quantity  has  ceased  to  be  ob 
served.  Whether  the  distinction  was  still  observed  in  the 
time  of  our  writer  can  hardly  be  determined.  It  is  true  that 
the  Anglo-Saxon  scribes  often  mark  the  long  sounds  of  their 
own  vowels  by  an  accentual  stroke  ;  but  in  this  practice  they 
were  so  far  from  uniform  that  we  can  lay  no  stress  on  the 
general  omission  of  the  stroke  in  this  manuscript.  Only  four 


1 3  2  GREEK  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

instances  of  it  occur  in  the  25  verses  given.  In  three  of  these 
it  stands  over  o,  in  one  over  77  ;  in  all  the  four  it  coincides 
with  a  Greek  accent.  That  the  Anglo-Saxon  vowels  a,  e,  /,  o 
had  the  same  sounds  with  the  a,  e,  i,  o  in  ancient  and  modern 
Greek  is  sufficiently  proved  by  other  evidence,  though  the 
confirmation  which  we  find  here  is  not  unwelcome.  The 
Greek  v  our  writer  represents  by  y.  He  invariably  distin 
guishes  it  from  i :  he  never  uses  y  for  i,  and  he  never  uses  i 
for  v.  This  is  unquestionable  evidence  that  the  two  vowels 
differed  in  pronunciation.  Had  L  and  v  sounded  alike,  as 
they  do  in  modern  Greek  utterance,  our  scribe  would  have 
confounded  them  in  writing,  as  he  confounds  e  and  at,  as  he 
confounds  v  and  01.  Now,  without  reference  to  this  manuscript, 
there  is  strong  reason  to  believe  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  y  had 
the  sound  of  French  u  or  German  u.  And  the  general 
opinion  of  scholars  has  recognized  this  as  the  prevailing  an 
cient  pronunciation  of  the  Greek  v.  But  here  comes  inde 
pendent  testimony  that  Greek  v  and  Anglo-Saxon  y  were 
sounded  like  each  other,  and  both  differently  from  the  Greek  i. 
In  what  other  sound  different  from  i  can  they  have  agreed, 
but  in  that  which  is  most  probable  on  separate  grounds  for 
each  of  them,  the  sound  of  French  n  or  German  u? 

The  only  simple  vowel  yet  to  be  mentioned  is  77.  And  in 
reference  to  this  we  find  a  strange  vacillation  on  the  part  of 
the  writer,  a  vacillation  which  has  no  parallel  in  his  treatment 
of  other  letters.  He  sometimes  uses  c  and  sometimes  i,  both 
with  nearly  equal  frequency.  In  some  of  the  fragments  e  pre 
vails,  in  others  i  •  but  when  all  the  instances  are  counted,  there 
is  little  difference  in  the  sum.  In  TTCLCT^  7-779  7779,  Gen.  i.  26,  the 
77  of  the  first  word  is  given  as  c,  that  of  the  second  and  third 
as  i.  In  eSityrjcrev  i)  tyv%ij,  Ps.  xlii.  2,  the  case  is  exactly  re 
versed  ;  the  77  of  the  first  word  is  given  as  i,  that  of  the  second 
and  third  as  e.  Mr.Ellis's  statement,  here,  has  not  his  usual 
accuracy.  "  For  77,"  he  says,  "  we  have  most  generally  /,  but 
in  about  50  instances  e."  If  he  had  counted,  he  would  have 
found  55  instances  of  z,  but  62  of  e.  The  e's  have  a  majority, 
though  only  a  small  one,  over  the  z's.  Mr.  Ellis  suggests 
that  there  was  some  confusion  in  the  mind  of  the  scribe, 
"perhaps  arising  from  the  Latin  transcriptions  of  77,  with 


GREEK  PR  O  NUN  CIA  TION.  1 3  3 

which  he  was  necessarily  more  familiar."  But  this  is  contrary 
to  the  analogy  of  the  manuscript.  The  scribe  was  familiar 
with  os  as  a  Latin  transcription  of  CH,  but  in  these  verses  he 
scarcely  uses  it  all.  He  was  familiar  with  ce  as  a  Latin  tran 
scription  of  at,  but  the  instances  in  which  he  uses  it  are  only 
one-eighth  of  the  whole  number.  In  the  other  seven-eighths 
he  uses  e,  though  he  doubtless  regarded  ce  as  expressing  the 
same  sound.  If  77  had  sounded  to  his  ear  like  Anglo-Saxon  i, 
he  would  have  represented  it  in  general  by  that  letter,  and 
only  by  an  occasional  slip  have  fallen  into  the  e,  which  for 
him  expressed  a  different  sound.  On  the  other  hand,  if  77 
had  sounded  to  him  like  c,  he  would  have  represented  it  in 
general  by  that  letter,  and  only  by  an  occasional  slip  have 
fallen  into  the  i.  That  he  vacillates  as  he  does  between  the 
two  is  a  sufficient  proof  that  both  were  unsatisfactory  ;  the 
Greek  77  did  not  seem  to  him  like  either  his  c  or  his  i.  Now 
the  ancient  Greek  77  was  a  longer  e,  an  open  sound  which  must 
.have  been  essentially  the  same  as  that  of  Anglo-Saxon  e. 
And  the  modern  Greek  77  is  not  different  in  sound  from  L,  and 
of  course  not  different  from  Anglo-Saxon  i.  It  appears,  then, 
that  in  this  manuscript  we  have  caught  the  letter  in  a  state  of 
transition  ;  it  was  on  its  way  from  the  ancient  to  the  modern 
sound  ;  it  had  become  closer  than  the  first,  but  was  not  yet 
so  close  as  the  second.  It  cannot  have  differed  very  widely 
from  the  final  sound  of  English  they,  pray,  convey,  etc.,  which 
is  certainly  closer  than  Anglo-Saxon  e,  and  has  in  fact  a  van 
ishing  sound  like  Anglo-Saxon  i.  The  difficulty  which  puz 
zled  our  writer  may  be  illustrated  by  taking  the  three  English 
words  ell,  ail,  eel.  The  Anglo-Saxon  e  was  like  the  vowel 
sound  of  ell  •  the  Anglo-Saxon  i  like  the  vowel  sound  of 
eel.  For  the  vowel  sound  of  ail  he  had  no  equivalent  in  his 
language  :  how  was  he  to  represent  it  ?  If  he  writes  an  c,  the 
word  will  sound  ell,  not  ail ;  if  he  writes  an  /,  it  will  sound  eel, 
not  ail.  No  wonder  that  he  vacillates  between  the  two,  un 
satisfied  with  either.  I  suspect  the  77,  as  he  formed  it,  was 
a  little  closer  than  our  a  in  ail ;  if  not,  I  think  he  would  more 
generally  have  used  his  e.  But  that  the  77  was  then  less  close 
than  our  e  in  eel — that  is,  than  Modern  Greek  77 — seems  to  me 
proved  beyond  a  doubt. 


1 34  GREEK  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

If  now  we  pass  on  to  the  diphthongs,  we  shall  find,  as  we 
might  expect,  that  a  large  part  of  them  have  lost  the  diph 
thongal  character.  Beside  those  written  with  iota  subscript, 
which  are  represented  here  in  the  same  way  as  simple  a,  rj,  &>, 
we  have  ov  represented  by  //,  ai  represented  by  <?,  and  eu 
represented  by  i.  In  all  these  cases,  the  change  from  the 
compound  diphthongal  utterance  to  the  simple  sound  had 
begun  to  prevail  either  before,  or  not  long  after  the  Chris 
tian  era.  Another  very  interesting  change  of  this  kind  ap 
pears  in  01,  which  our  scribe,  as  already  stated,  uniformly 
represents  by  y.  He  does  not  distinguish  it  from  f,  and 
doubtless  heard  it  pronounced  with  the  same  sound,  that  of 
French  n  or  German  u.  The  fact  thatot  was  for  a  long  time 
sounded  like  v,  while  as  yet  they  were  both  distinguished 
from  i,  has  already  attracted  the  notice  of  scholars.  On  this 
subject  I  may  quote  some  statements  made  by  G.  Curtiusin  the 
Erlauterungen  to  his  Grammar  (p.  21).  He  tells  us  that 
Liscovius,  in  a  work  on  the  pronunciation  of  Greek,  pub 
lished  in  1825,  cited  from  old  grammarians  a  number  of 
orthographic  rules  which  imply  this  identity  of  01  and  v. 
Thus  in  the  Erotemata  of  Basil,  written  in  the  fourth  century 
after  Christ,  it  is  said  :  Trdcra  Xe£t?  UTTO  T^  KV  <Tv\\a/3fjs 
ap^opevri  &ia  rev  v  tyiXov  ypdfarai  irKrjv  TOV  Kol\ov.  It  is 
strange  that  the  rule  should  omit  to  mention  /coi^da},  tcoivos, 
and  several  others  with  initial /cot ;  but  it  says,  plainly  enough, 
that  the  first  syllable  of  xolXov  has  the  sound  of  KV.  Similar 
rules  are  found  in  the  Epimcrismi  ascribed  to  Herodian, 
and  in  the  Greek  Etymologica.  Thus  in  the  Etymologicum 
Magnum  (p.  289,  II)  :  ra  et?  vt;  airavra  Bia  TOV  v  ^tXoi)  jpd- 
<j)€TaL  7r\r/v  TOV  7Tpoi£.  The  word  Trpol%,  then,  must  have 
sounded  as  if  written  rrpv^.  If  the  modern  pronuncia 
tion  had  prevailed  at  that  time,  the  writer  should  have  added 
words  in  i%,  as  0pi%,  Ki'Xit;,  fido-ri^,  TrepStf,  rerrtf,  0 
,  and  a  multitude  of  others  ;  also  words  in  17^,  as 
uX.&'jrr)!;,  fjLvpjur)^,  vdp&rj!;,  7r?jX?;f,  and  many  more ;  for 
the  modern  Greek  pronounces  all  these  as  he  would  if  they 
were  spelled  with  v£  in  the  last  syllable.  Other  facts  of  this 
kind  arc  given  by  R.  F.  A.  Schmidt  in  his  Beit  rage  zur 
GescJiichte  dcr  Grammatik  (p.  73  ff.) ;  and  he  derives  from 


GREEK  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  1 3  5 

them  a  new  and  beyond  all  •  doubt  a  correct  explanation  of 
the  name  v  tyi\ov  as  well  as  e  -v/aAoi'.  The  old  name  of  the 
letter  was  v,  i.e.  the  long  sound  of  the  vowel  with  circumflex 
accent.  But  when  01  came  to  be  sounded  in  the  same  way, 
the  adjective  tyiKov,  'bare,  simple,'  was  often  added  :  thus  v 
'fyiXov,  '  simple  u,'  written  with  one  letter,  in  distinction  from 
v  8i(j)Soy<yov,  written  with  two  letters,  that  is,  01.  As  to  e,  it 
was  first  named  e!,  just  like  the  Greek  word  for  '  if,'  only 
given  with  circumflex  accent ;  afterward  it  was  named  e,  the 
short  vowel-sound  itself  serving  as  a  name  for  the  letter.  But 
when  at,  was  sounded  in  the  same  way,  the  word  ^L\OV  was 
often  added  :  e  -fyiKov,  '  the  simple,  one-letter  e,'  in  distinction 
from  e  SlijjQoyyov,  '  the  two-letter  e  ' — that  is,  ai. 

How  (H  should  get  the  sound  of  v  it  is  not  difficult  to  un 
derstand.  First,  the  close  i  may  have  caused  the  o  before  it 
to  assume  the  closer  sound  of  u.  This  would  give  the  diph 
thong  uij  which  might  naturally  pass  into  the  intermediate  v. 
If,  instead  of  sounding  the  u  and  i  each  in  its  own  position, 
the  vocal  organs  take  the  position  for  u  and  in  that  position 
try  to  utter  i,  the  result  will  be  a  simple  v.  It  is  a  curious 
fact  that  this  pronunciation  of  oi  appeared  among  the 
Boeotians  several  centuries  before  the  Christian  era,  as  in 
ru?  aXXu?  for  TO£?  a\Xo£9,  FVtcta  for  olfc:a.  What  adds  to  the 
wonder  is,  that  the  changes  in  at  and  et  should  have  been 
likewise  anticipated  among  the  Boeotians  :  as  in  ypdffreaSij, 
Boeotic  for  ypdfaa&ai ;  IJM,  Bceotic  for  el^i.  The  Boeotians, 
backward  as  their  Athenian  neighbors  thought  them,  v;ere 
certainly,  as  regards  pronunciation,  in  advance  of  their 
age. 

We  have  yet  to  speak  of  the  diphthongs  av  and  ev.  Our  scribe 
represents  them  by  au  and  cu.  In  modern  Greek  they  are 
sounded  as  af  and  cf  before  surds  (i.  c.  smooth  and  rough 
mutes,  also  cr,  f,  ifr),  but  av  and  ev  before  sonants  (i.  e.  all 
other  consonants  and  all  vowels).  m  It  seems  clear  that  this 
writer  did  not  hear  them  as  af  and  cf  before  surds  ;  for  in 
that  case  he  would  have  used/"  in  writing  them.  To  suppose 
that  he  would  uniformly  give  up  a  phonetic  representation 
for  the  sake  of  conforming  to  ordinary  Latin  transcription  is 
contrary  to  the  analogy  of  his  procedure  in  other  cases.  Nor 


I  36  GREEK  PR  O  NUN  CIA  TION. 

is  it  probable  that  he  heard  them  as  av  and  cv before  sonants. 
The  u  with  which  he  writes  them  is  the  same  letter  that  he 
uses  for  ov ;  it  is  most  likely  that  he  meant  it  to  express  the 
same  sound.  This,  however,  is  not  entirely  certain.  The  An 
glo-Saxons,  while  they  had  a  w  (or  what  we  write  as  such),  had 
no  v  y  the  Anglo-Saxon  n  is  always  a  vowel.  But,  in  writing 
Latin,  they  used  the  same  letter  u  both  for  u  and  for  v. 
We  cannot,  therefore,  be  quite  sure  that  our  scribe  would 
not  have  written  au  and  en  for  av  and  evt  as  he  was  wont  to 
do  in  writing  Latin  words  like  grains  and  levis.  But  if  he 
did  so,  if  his  au  and  eu  were  meant  for  av  and  evt  we  may  be 
sure  that  the  Greek  /3  did  not  sound  to  him  as  v,  which  is  its 
present  pronunciation.  The  modern  Greek  confounds  av  be 
fore  sonants  with  a/3  ;  but  this  writer  distinguishes  them,  giv 
ing  the  former  as  av,  the  latter  as  ab  /  he  cannot  have  sounded 
both  of  them  as  av. 

As  to  the  rough  breathing,  we  have  already  said  that  our 
writer  leaves  it  unrepresented  in  all  but  a  very  few  cases,  where 
we  may  presume  that  he  was  influenced  by  the  ordinary  Latin 
transcription.  Undoubtedly  it  had  ceased  to  be  heard  in  pro 
nunciation  :  and  the  Roman  k,  we  know,  has  suffered  the 
same  fate  in  the  modern  descendants  of  the  Latin. 

The  consonants  will  furnish  little  subject  for  remark.  We 
have  already  observed  that  </>  is  pretty  constantly  represented 
by/".  It  is  remarkable  that  for  a  long  time  the  Romans  never 
represented  ^  by  f.  At  first  they  used/  for  this  purpose,  as 
in  Poino-s  for  $olvi% ,  purpura  for  Troptyvpa,  etc.  But  after 
ward  they  begin  to  express  the  Greek  aspirates  ;  and  thence 
forward — that  is,  from  about  the  time  of  Cicero — they  used 
ph  for  <j).  It  is  not  until  late  in  the  period  of  the  empire  that 
we  begin  to  find  /  for  </>.  This  fact  shows  that  the  classical 
pronunciation  of  <£>  must  have  been  more  than  slightly  differ 
ent  from  that  of//  it  must  have  been  broadly  distinguished 
from  the/,  and  nearer  to  Latin/.  It  was,  in  fact,  what  the 
ancients  describe  it  as  being,  a/  followed  by  an  //  distinctly 
audible.  But  from  this,  its  true  aspirate  sound,  it  passed  into 
the  spirant//  and  that  change  had  probably  become  fixed 
some  centuries  before  the  date  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  writer. 
The  other  aspirates  must  have  undergone  a  similar  change  at 


GREEK  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  1 3  / 

about  the  same  time.  They  are  represented  here  by  th  for  6, 
and  ch  for  %.  It  is  surprising  that  we  nowhere  find  the  simple 
character  which  is  used  in  Anglo-Saxon  writing  for  the  th 
sound  of  think,  throw  ;  but  there  can  be  no  real  question  as 
to  the  sound  represented. 

It  is  worth  noticing  that,  wherever  two  rough  mutes  suc 
ceed  each  other,  the  first  is  always  represented  here  as  becom 
ing  smooth.  Thus  the  word  l%0va)v  occurs  twice,  and  both 
times  is  spelt  with  cth,  not  chth ;  the  participle  \6i<f>3-ev  occurs 
three  times,  and  in  each  instance  is  spelt  with  pth,  not  fth. 
Can  it  be  that  the  long  current  pronunciation  of  the  word 
diphthong  as  diptlioug  was  founded  on  the  usage  of  the  Greeks 
who  served  as  teachers  of  their  language  at  the  revival  of 
learning? 

In  modern  Greek  pronunciation  a  smooth  mute  (TT,  T,  K), 
when  it  follows  a  nasal,  is  vocalized  and  becomes  sonant, 
through  the  influence  of  the  sonant  before  it.  Hence  /ZTT  is 
sounded  as  inb,  vr  as  nd,  y/c  as  ng.  No  such  change  is  indi 
cated  in  our  scribe's  transliterations  :  he  writes  ampelon  (not 
afnbelon)  for  a/£7reXcoz>,  panton  (not  pandon)  for  Trdvrayv,  prose- 
nencon  (not  prosencngoii)  for  Trpoo-eveytcov. 

The  modern  Greek  pronunciation  has  no  middle  mutes 
except  after  a  nasal.  Everywhere  else  the  /3,  7,  S  have  ceased 
to  be  mutes  and  have  passed  into  spirants,  with  sonant  utter 
ance.  From  being  the  sonants  of  TT,  «,  r,  they  have  become 
the  sonants  of  <£,  %,  0,  in  their  present  pronunciation.  The 
writing  of  our  scribe,  who  represents  them  by  b,g,  and  ^/re 
spectively,  affords  no  clear  indication  of  these  spirant  sounds. 
It  is  true  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  g  must  often  have  had  a  weak 
sound,  not  very  different  from  our  consonant  y ;  but  there  is 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  b  and  d  had  any  other  than  their 
present  English  sounds.  But  for  the  spirant  sound  of  8 — the 
sonant  th  in  otJicr — the  Anglo-Saxon  had  a  simple  character, 
which  we  should  expect  to  find  here,  if  that  was  really  heard 
by  the  writer.  Still,  as  he  has  not  used  the  corresponding 
character  for  the  surd  th,  we  can  hardly  lay  very  much  stress 
upfon  this  fact. 

In  all  that  has  been  said  thus  far,  I  have  spoken  of  the 
scribe  who  wrote  this  transliterated  text  as  being  of  Anglo- 


1 3  8  GREEK  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

Saxon  race.  But  this  cannot  be  regarded  as  certain.  The 
codex  which  contains  it  is  composed  of  half  a  dozen  pieces  ; 
and  we  have  seen  that  three  of  them  contain  Welsh  glosses. 
Though  there  is  one  piece  of  Anglo-Saxon  in  the  book,  it  is 
evident  that  a  Welsh  hand  or  hands  have  had  a  large  share  in 
its  making  up  ;  and  it  is  altogether  possible  that  this  trans 
literation  may  have  been  made  by  such  a  hand.  This  possi 
bility  derives  some  support  from  the  fact  that  not  one  of  the 
special  characters  used  by  the  Anglo-Saxons — the  w,  the  two 
signs  for  th  surd  and  sonant,  the  compound  & — is  found  in 
this  text.  And  none  of  them  occurs  in  the  Welsh  glosses  of 
this  volume,  as  printed  by  Zeuss  at  the  end  of  his  Gram- 
matica  Celtic  a  (with  perhaps  one  exception,  on  p.  1087).  It 
must  be  said,  however,  on  the  other  side,  that  the  y,  which 
occurs  so  often  in  the  transliteration,  is  not  to  be  found  in 
these  glosses.  If  it  was  a  Welshman  who  made  the  trans 
literation,  we  must  suppose  that,  having  in  his  own  language 
no  sound  that  corresponded  to  the  Greek  v,  he  fell  back  upon 
the  familiar  Latin  equivalent  y,  which  he  used  also  for  ot,  be 
cause  that  had  the  same  sound  as  v.  But  it  would  still  be 
true  that,  if  v  and  OL  had  a  common  sound,  different  from  i, 
that  common  sound  could  hardly  have  varied  much  from 
German  ii,  which  appears  on  independent  grounds  to  have 
been  the  ancient  power  of  the  v.  And  it  might  be  shown  in 
detail,  if  there  were  time  for  it,  that  the  other  conclusions 
which  we  have  drawn  from  the  manuscript  would  require  little 
modification,  if  we  suppose  it  to  have  been  written  by  a 
Welshman  rather  than  a  Saxon. 

The  object  of  Mr.  Ellis  in  giving  a  specimen  of  this  trans 
literated  text,  and  commenting  at  some  length  upon  it,  is 
mainly  to  throw  light,  on  the  current  pronunciation  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  in  the  tenth  century.  The  light  thus  obtained, 
if  it  does  not  discover  anything  absolutely  new,  gives  a  wel 
come  confirmation  to  views  which  were  already  probable  on 
other  grounds.  But  Mr.  Ellis  is  led  to  say  something  on  the 
pronunciation  of  Greek  in  ancient  times.  Without  entering 
into  any  discussion  of  the  subject,  he  gives  utterance  to  a 
general  conclusion,  in  the  folio \ving  terms  :  "  We  may  never 
be  able  to  recover  the  pronunciation,  or  appreciate  the  quan- 


GREEK  PRONUNCIA TION.  1 39 

titative  rhythm,  of  the  Athenian  tragedians  or  of  the  Homeric 
rhapsodists,  but  we  can  read  as  Plutarch  and  as  Lucian,  and 
we  should  be  satisfied  with  that  privilege,  remembering  that 
if  we  pronounced  these  later  authors  otherwise  than  as  the 
modern  Greeks,  we  should  certainly  pronounce  wrongly.  It 
would  indeed  be  just  about  as  absurd  to  read  Lucian  with  the 
pronunciation  of  Aristophanes,  as  to  read  Tennyson  with  the 
pronunciation  of  Chaucer."  This  is  a  kind  of  obiter  dictum  in 
Mr.  Ellis's  book,  for  which,  perhaps,  he  should  not  be  held  to 
a  very  strict  account.  But  we  must  be  allowed  to  express 
our  surprise  at  hearing  it  from  a  scholar  of  so  much  candor 
and  judgment.  He  is  right,  indeed,  in  assuming  that  Greek 
pronunciation  changed  in  the  five  centuries  between  Aristo 
phanes  and  Lucian.  No  one  would  deny  this  except  those 
who,  like  Professor  Ross  of  Halle,  maintain  the  antediluvi 
an  antiquity  of  the  modern  Greek  sounds.  But  can 
we  suppose  that  Greek  pronunciation  has  undergone  no 
changes  in  the  seventeen  centuries  between  Lucian  and  our 
own  day  ?  Have  not  the  external  and  political  conditions 
been  at  least  as  unfavorable  to  continued  uniformity  of  pro 
nunciation  in  the  .seventeen  centuries  since  Plutarch  and  Lu 
cian  as  they  were  in  the  five  centuries  before  them  ?  But 
Mr.  Ellis  asserts  that  "  if  we  pronounced  Plutarch  and  Lucian 
otherwise  than  as  the  modern  Greeks,  we  should  certainly 
pronounce  wrongly."  How  any  man  can  say  this  who  looks 
at  the  manuscript  we  have  been  discussing,  and  who  believes 
in  it,  is  beyond  my  comprehension.  Mr.  Ellis  recognizes  in 
the  manuscript  an  attempt  to  represent  the  current  Byzantine 
pronunciation  of  the  tenth  century.  But,  so  regarded,  it 
shows  unequivocally  that  in  the  tenth  century,  seven  or  eight 
hundred  years  after  Plutarch  and  Lucian,  the  current  pronun 
ciation  was  still  in  many  important  points  essentially  different 
from  that  of  the  present  day.  Unquestionably  the  most 
characteristic  feature  of  the  present  pronunciation  is  its  iota- 
cism.  Like  i  are  sounded  the  two  vowels  T]  and  v,  and  the 
four  diphthongs,  et,  77,  01,  vi :  that  is,  there  are  six  written 
forms  beside  i  which  have  the  same  sound  with  it.  Now  how 
does  it  appear  in  this  manuscript  ?  Here  only  one  of  these 
six  forms — the  diphthong  et — is  as  yet  fully  identified  with  t. 


1 40  GREEK  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

Three  others,  the  vowel  v  and  the  diphthongs  01  and  vi,  are  uni 
formly  distinguished  from  it,  while  the  remaining  two,  T?  and  77, 
though  clearly  on  the  way  toward  an  t-sound,  have  not  yet 
reached  that  goal.  But  the  manuscript  gives  similar  testi 
mony  in  regard  to  other  prominent  features  of  the  modern 
Greek  pronunciation  :  so  as  to  the  sounds  of  af  and  ef,  for  the 
diphthongs  av,  euwhen  followed  by  surds  ;  and  probably  also 
the  sounds  av  and  cv  for  the  same  diphthongs  when  followed 
by  sonants.  So,  too,  as  to  the  medial  sounds  for  the  smooth 
mutes  TT,  K,  r,  where  they  follow  a  nasal.  I  say  nothing  as  to 
the  spirant  sounds  of  the  middle  mutes,  for  in  regard  to  these 
the  testimony  of  the  manuscript  can  hardly  be  regarded  as 
decisive.  But  leaving  these  out  of  the  account,  the  differences 
indicated  between  the  pronunciation  of  the  tenth  century  and 
that  of  the  nineteenth  arc  extensive  and  important.  How 
then  can  it  be  said  (as  Mr.  Ellis  in  effect  says)  that  there  is  no 
material  difference  between  the  pronunciation  of  the  second 
century  and  that  of  the  nineteenth  ? 


VIII. 
ROSS    ON    ITALICANS    AND    GREEKS. 

1858. 

I   PROPOSE  to  call  the  attention  of  the  Society*  for  a  short 
time  to  a  pamphlet  of  some  ninety  pages,  recently  pub 
lished  by  Professor  Ross,  of  Halle,  and  entitled  "  Italiker  und 
Grakcn. — Sprachen  die  Romer  Sanskrit  odcr  GriccJiiscJi  ?  " 
'Greeks    and  Italicans. — Did   the   Romans  talk  Sanskrit  or 
Greek? — In  letters  to  a  friend,  by  Ludwig  Ross,  Halle,  1858.' 
This  rather  quaint  title  is  followed  by  an  equally  quaint  dedi 
cation,   "to  the    Greeks,   as   being,    in    race    and    language, 
parents  of  the  Romans."     The  theory  here  indicated  as  to  the 
relation  between  Greeks  and  Romans  is  more  distinctly  stated 
in  the  Preface — a  lengthy  but  lively  document,  addressed  to 
Professor  Keil,  of  Pforte.      The  Preface,  however,  does  more 
than  announce  the  author's  views  of  this  subject ;  it  explains 
the  reasons  which  have  led  him  to  the  present  publication  of 
his  views.     The  immediate  occasion  for  preparing  the  essay 
came,  as  we  learn,  from  the  recent  appearance  of  Mommsen's 
History  of  Rome.     The  general  merit  of  that  extraordinary 
work  is  fully  and  even  warmly  recognized  by  Professor  Ross. 
But  he  objects  strongly  to  the  opening  chapters,  complaining 
in  severe  terms    of    the  "rash,    confident,    and   overbearing 
manner"  in  which  Mommscn  dogmatizes  "  on  the  ante-his 
torical    period  and    the   primitive  history   of  Rome,   on    the 
sources  of  our  knowledge  concerning  them,   on  the  ethno 
graphic  relations  of  the  Latins  and  other  populations  of  mid 
dle    and    southern    Italy,    on    the    early    importance    of  the 
Etruscans,   and  all  other  matters  connected  with  these  " — a 
manner  which  (as   he  goes  on    to    say)   "makes    it    evident 
enough  that  he  has  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  give  these 
subjects  any  serious  investigation."     The  most  important  of 

*  That  is,  of  the  American  Oriental  Society,  at  its  meeting  in  November,  1858. 


142  IT  ALT  CANS  AND  GREEKS. 

Mommsen's  errors,  and  the  one  specially  combated  in  this 
work,  is  found  in  a  passage  quoted  by  our  author,  asserting 
that  "philological  researches  teach  us  to  distinguish  three 
primitive  Italian  stocks,  the  Japygian,  the  Etruscan,  and  the 
Italican,  as  we  may  call  it,  the  last  of  which  divides  itself  into 
two  main  branches,  the  Latin  idiom,  and  that  to  which  belong 
the  dialects  of  the  Umbrians,  Marsians,  Volscians,  and 
Samnites."  Professor  Ross,  on  the  other  hand,  maintains 
(we  give  his  own  words)  that  "in  all  middle  and  southern 
Italy,  up  to  Ktruria  and  Umbria,  so  far  as  our  knowledge  ex 
tends,  but  one  great  stock  of  languages — the  Greek — pre 
vailed,  in  different  dialects' ;  so  that  Latins  and  Volscians, 
Sabincs  and  Oscans,  Messapians  and  Japygians,  spoke  noth 
ing  but  corrupt  Greek,  and  that  admixtures  of  Greek  are 
found  even  in  the  Etruscan."  And  again,  he  asserts,  in  an 
other  place,  that  "  the  Latin,  Sabine,  Oscan,  and,  in  general, 
all  the  idioms  of  lower  Italy,  the  Japygian  and  Messapian  in 
cluded,  are  nothing  but  Greek,  corrupted  in  speaking,  and  at 
last  written  with  differently  formed  alphabets  ;  and  that  all 
these  idioms,  and  all  forms  of  words  developed  in  them,  ran 
together  at  last  into  the  Latin  as  sole  heir  to  all  of  them." 
So  certain  and  obvious  docs  this  character  of  the  Italican 
idioms  appear  to  Professor  Ross,  that  from  the  failure  of  Bopp 
and  his  followers  to  recognize  it  he  does  not  hesitate  to  infer 
the  worthlessness  of  their  methods.  The  passage  in  which 
Indo-European  philology  is  weighed  in  a  balance  and  found 
wanting  is  sufficiently  curious  to  deserve  extraction  : 

"  You  will  ask,  indeed,"  he  says  to  his  friend,  Professor  Keil,  "  in 
what  relation  I  stand  to  the  Sanskrit,  as  I  have  placed  upon  the  title 
of  these  letters  the  question  whether  the  Latin  was  Greek  or  Sanskrit, 
while  in  the  following  pages  the. Sanskrit  is  hardly  mentioned.  My  an 
swer  is  perfectly  simple,  '  I  do  not  understand  a  word  of  Sanskrit.'  But 
I  comfort  myself  with  the  reflection  that  Mommscn  and  Curtius,  whose 
statements  have  called  out  this  tract,  understand  hardly  any  more  of  it, 
and  have  themselves  been  led  by  others  into  the  path  of  error.  The 
thorough  learning  of  a  language  requires  far  too  much  time  for  a  classical 
philologist  to  get  it  up  in  his  spare  hours  :  and  with  the  mere  skeleton  of 
a  language  there  is  very  little  gained.  How  Sanskrit  sounded  in  actual 
living  utterance  is  probably  pretty  much  unknown  to  our  students 
of  Sanskrit ;  and  without  the  living  sound  a  language  is  a  stiff  corpse, 
which  you  may  recognize,  dissect,  and  understand,  but  can  hardly  set  in 


ITALIC  A  NS  AND  GREEKS.  1 43 

motion  or  action.  Of  Sanskrit  studies  in  general  I  have  a  pretty  low 
opinion,  for  I  do  not  see  that,  since  they  have  come  to  flourish  in  Ger 
many,  and  are  represented  in  almost  all  our  universities,  they  have  pro 
duced  any  important  result,  least  of  all  any  of  a  positive  historical  char 
acter,  unless  it  be  the  word  '  Indo-Germanic  ' — a  designation  hardly  sus 
tained  even  yet  by  sufficient  grounds — with  which  so  much  speculation 
of  all  sorts  (Wesen  und  Unwesen,  (  business  and  bother')  has  been  car 
ried  on,  and  which  after  all  says  nothing  more  than  that  the  European 
nations  and  their  languages  have  their  furthest  roots  in  Asia — a  fact 
known  ever  since  the  famous  tower-building  at  Babel,  only  expressed  in 
a  different  way.  As  all  comparative  philology,  in  the  many  volumes  it 
has  sent  into  the  world,  has  never  yet,  to  my  knowledge,  demonstrated 
in  extenso,  as  I  have  done  in  these  pages,  that  the  Latin  is  only  a  mix 
ture  of  different  Greek  dialects,  written  in  other  letters,  and  afterwards 
raised  into  a  literary  language — I  am  fully  justified  in  thinking  of  it  thus 
disrespectfully.  I  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  now  and  then  a  Greek 
or  Latin  form  or  inflexion  may  properly  be  associated  and  compared 
with  the  Sanskrit,  but  the  same  thing  can  be  done  with  other  languages." 

By  other  languages  which,  according  to  Professor  Ross, 
throw  as  much  light  as  Sanskrit  on  the  forms  of  Greek 
and  Latin,  he  refers,  as  it  appears,  especially  to  the  Egyptian 
and  the  Phoenician.  He  suggests  an  attempt  to  point  out  the 
Egyptian  and  Phoenician  words  in  Greek  and  Latin,  as  a  de 
sirable  antidote  to  the  Sanskrit.  And  to  this  end  he  makes 
a  ^beginning  himself  with  a  long  list  of  words,  in  which, 
among  others,  vav<s  navis,  and  TTOU?  pes  are  traced  to  the 
Egyptian.  That  the  same  words  are  found  in  Sanskrit  (ndu, 
pad),  and  in  Anglo-Saxon  (naca,fot),  he  would  probably  ex 
plain,  if  his  dislike  of  Indo-European  philology  would  per 
mit  him  to  take  notice  of  the  fact,  by  referring  to  the  con 
quests  of  Sesostris.  These  he  regards  as  the  historical  basis 
for  the  Greek  mythus  of  Dionysus  conquering  India  (a 
mythus,  by  the  way,  of  which  we  find  no  trace  before 
the  time  of  Alexander),  and  in  both — the  Dionysiac  myth  and 
the  supposed  history  of  Sesostris — finds  reason  to  believe  that 
the  language  and  religion  of  India  may  have  been  largely  in 
fluenced  by  those  of  Egypt;  so  that  "the  multiform 
and  grotesque  divinities  of  the  Indians  "  (as  he  is  pleased  to 
term  them,  with  an  evident  unconsciousness  of  the  immense 
difference  between  the  earlier  and  later  mythologies  of  India), 
"  instead  of  being  older  than  the  Egyptian,  are  perhaps  after' 


144  ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS. 

all  only  a  disfigured  copy  of  the  latter."  How  this  may  be, 
we  will  not  stop  to  inquire  ;  we  will  rather  imitate  the 
judicious  forbearance  of  Professor  Ross,  who  only  throws  out 
the  suggestion,  without  entering  on  the  proof. 

But  we  must  be  allowed  to  point  out  some  misconceptions 
which  appear  in  the  passage  just  extracted.  In  the  first  place, 
he  misconceives  the  significance  of  the  term  Indo-Germanic 
or  Indo-European  (which  Bopp  with  good  reason  prefers  to 
use) — so  strangely  misconceives  it  as  to  furnish  ground  for  a 
suspicion  that  his  frank  and  manly  confession  in  reference  to 
his  knowledge  of  Sanskrit  should  be  construed  as  extending  to 
Indo-European  philology.  The  term,  he  assures  us,  signifies 
nothing  more  than  that  "  the  nations  and  languages  of  Europe 
have  their  furthest  roots  in  Asia."  Now  this  in  one  view  is 
saying  too  little  :  in  another,  too  much.  Too  much  :  for  it 
scatters  the  roots  of  Greek  and  Latin  through  the  continent  of 
Asia  ;  so  that,  in  following  the  indications  of  this  statement, 
we  might  look  for  them  quite  as  much  in  Chinese  and  Man- 
chu  as  in  Zend  and  Sanskrit  :  indeed,  Professor  Ross,  as  we 
have  seen,  finds  them  still  more  in  Phoenician  and  Egyptian. 
But  this  is  not  only  not  the  meaning  of  the  term  Indo-Euro 
pean  :  it  renders  the  term  absolutely  unmeaning  and  absurd. 
Again,  it  says  too  little  :  for  it  fails  to  express  the  fact  that  cer 
tain  languages  of  Asia  have,  not  only  the  same  ultimate  roots 
as  the  Greek  and  Latin,  but  also,  what  is  vastly  more  impor 
tant  as  proving  identity  of  origin,  the  same  grammar  to  a 
great  extent,  the  same  systems  of  formation  and  inflexion. 
We  cannot  help  regretting  that  Professor  Ross  should  have  re 
solved  to  learn  no  Sanskrit,  because  his  other  pursuits  would 
not  allow  him  to  learn  all.  He  says,  indeed,  that  "  with  the 
mere  skeleton  of  a  language  very  little  is  gained."  But  the  pre 
sent  case,  we  think,  furnishes  clear  proof  to  the"  contrary.  If 
Professor  Ross  would  get  some  friend,  who  knows  the  Sanskrit 
alphabet,  to  interline  the  paradigms  of  Bopp's  Sanskrit  Gram 
mar  with  European  equivalents  for  the  oriental  characters,  it 
would  be  easy  for  him  to  read  them  all  over  in  less  than  two 
hours.  Among  the  nouns  he  would  find  such  forms  as  Fern. 
vdk,  '  speech,'  in  which  he  could  not  help  recognizing  the  Latin 
vox  /  Gen.  vdcas,  Lat,  vocis ;  Dat.  vacet  Lat.  voci ;  Ace. 


ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS.  145 

wicam,  Lat.  vocem ;  Nom.  PL  vacas,  Lat.  voces,  etc. 
Amonsf  the  verbs  he  would  find  such  forms  as  Aorist  adixam, 

o 

Greek  eSeiga  (originally  eSeigav)  ;  2d  person  adixcts,  Gr. 
eSetfe? ;  3d  person  adixat>  Gr.  ISetfe  (originally  eSeifer)  : 
Dual,  2d  person  adixatam,  Gr.  eBei^arov  ;  3d  person  adix- 
atduij  Gr.  eSei^drrjv :  Plural,  1st  person  adixama,  Gr.  eSei^a/jiev  ; 
2d  person  adixata,  Gr.  e§ei%are ;  3d  person  adixan,  Gr. 
e$ei%av.  We  are  greatly  mistaken,  if,  after  seeing  such  phe 
nomena  as  these,  which  even  the  most  cursory  view  of  the 
Sanskrit  paradigms  would  force  upon  his  notice,  he  could  re 
gard  them  as  adequately  represented  by  saying  that  "  the 
languages  and  nations  of  Europe  have  their  furthest  roots  in 
Asia."  And  if  he  could  be  persuaded  further  to  spend  two 
hours  or  two  days  or  two  months  on  the  languages  of  Egypt 
and  Palestine,  with  a  view  to  find  in  their  grammars  any  fair 
offset  or  antidote  to  these  Sanskrit  parallels,  we  are  greatly 
mistaken  if  after  such  an  attempt  he  could  still  assert  that  the 
same  comparison  of  Greek  and  Latin  forms  can  be  made  with 
these  languages  as  with  the  Sanskrit.  We  believe  that  a  few 
hours  of  grammatical  study  applied  in  this  way  to  the  Sanskrit 
and  other  oriental  languages,  though  he  might  only  become 
acquainted  with  their  skeletons,  would  effect  a  great  change 
in  his  views  of  comparative  philology,  and  that  thus  very  much 
would  be  gained,  if  not  for  the  cause  of  science,  at  least  for 
the  enlightenment  and  reputation  of  Professor  Ross. 

But  again,  he  misconceives  the  views  of  Indo-European 
philologists  as  to  the  relation  between  Greek  and  Latin  on  the 
one  hand,  and  Sanskrit  on  the  other.  He  evidently  regards 
them  as  deriving  the  Greek  and  Latin  from  the  Sanskrit — as 
making  this  the  parent  language,  and  those  its  descendants. 
This  is  implied  in  the  interrogatory  of  his  title-page,  ''Did  the 
Romans  talk  Greek  or  Sanskrit?"  According  to  him  they 
talked  Greek — that  is,  a  language  formed  from  the  Greek  : 
and  of  course  he  assumes  that  according  to  his  opponents 
they  talked  Sanskrit — a  language  formed  from  the  Sanskrit. 
But  no  philologist  of  reputation  maintains,  so  far  as  we  know, 
that  the  languages  of  Europe  are  derived  from  the  Sanskrit. 
The  Indo-European  languages  have  many  things  in  common 
— things  which  it  would  be  absurd  to  attribute  to  accidental 
10 


ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS. 

coincidence  ;  things  which  can  only  be  explained  as  inherited 
from  a  common  parent.  But  it  is  agreed  on  all  hands, 
that  neither  the  Sanskrit  nor  any  other  extant  language  can 
claim  to  be  that  common  parent.  The  oldest  of  the  Indo- 
European  dialects  are  only  descendants  of  the  primitive 
mother.  All  of  them  have  departed  more  or  less  widely 
from  the  original  type,  modifying,  omitting,  and  adding  each 
in  its  own  way.  The  common  language  from  which  all  have 
sprung  is  to  be  reproduced,  if  at  all,  only  by  comparing  all 
its  descendants.  And  if  in  such  a  comparison  we  derive  es 
pecial  advantage  from  the  Sanskrit— more  than  from  any  sis 
ter  dialect,  more  than  from  the  Greek,  which  in  this  respect 
yields  only  to  the  Sanskrit — the  reason  is,  partly,  that  the 
early  language  of  India  is  preserved  to  us  in  monuments  which 
are  at  once  very  ancient  and  very  copious  ;  and  partly,  that  the 
Aryan  people  of  India,  having  wandered  less  wriclcly  from  the 
early  home  of  their  race,  and  being  perhaps  endowed  by  nature 
with  less  mobility  of  character  and  habit,  seem  to  have  pre 
served  the  primitive  roots  and  forms  of  their  language  with 
more  tenacity  than  their  kinsmen  of  the  West.  The  original 
Indo-European  language  must  have  had  an  extraordinary 
abundance  of  undiscriminated  synonyms,  both  in  roots  and  in 
formative  syllables.  Among  such  synonyms,  the  languages  of 
the  West,  as  a  general  thing,  take  their  choice,  retaining  each 
of  them  one  root  or  form,  and  suffering  the  rest  to  drop.  Or, 
if  they  retain  more  than  one,  it  is  usually  by  establishing  some 
distinction  of  sense  between  them,  so  that  they  are  no  longer 
completely  synonymous.  The  Sanskrit,  on  the  other  hand, 
certainly  stands  nearer  in  this  respect  to  the  primitive  condi 
tion.  It  presents- — especially  as  found  in  the  Vedas — a  simi 
lar  copiousness  of  synonymous  words  and  forms  :  a  character 
istic  which  of  course  renders  it  peculiarly  valuable  for  the  pur 
poses  of  linguistic  comparison. 

But  let  us  proceed  now  from  the  preface  to  the  sequel  of 
Professor  Ross's  pamphlet.  It  will  be  observed  that  he 
thinks  of  Latin  as  holding  to  Greek  much  the  same  relation 
that  French  does  to  Latin.  As  French,  though  containing 
some  non-Latin  elements,  is  yet  substantially  Latin,  only  al 
tered  by  time  and  corrupted  by  popular  use  :  so  Latin  itself 


ITALICANS  AND   GREEKS.  147 

is  in  the  same  sense  substantially  Greek,  only  subjected  to 
similar  modifying  and  degrading  influences.  This  he  endeav 
ors  to  prove  by  an  extended  lexical  comparison  of  the  two 
languages,  Greek  and  Latin,  embracing  a  large  number  of 
words,  and  conducted  with  an  openly  avowed  and  evidently 
sincere  contempt  for  exact  philological  criticism.  Of  gram 
matical  comparison,  between  the  systems  of  inflexion  and  for 
mation  in  the  two  languages,  we  find  but  little,  though  in  a 
passing  remark  he  acknowledges  its  importance.  His  strength 
is  in  numbers — the  number  of  words  which  can  be  pointed 
out  and  put  together  as  really  or  apparently  identical  in  Greek 
and  Latin.  "A  twentieth,"  he  says,  "  at  the  utmost,  a  tenth, 
of  my  comparisons,  I  am  willing  to  surrender  as  still  uncer 
tain.  Even  then,  if  you  take  into  account  formations  from 
radical  \vords,  derivatives  and  compounds,  more  than  half  the 
entire  stock  of  words  in  Latin  is  shown  to  be  Greek,  and  a 
key  furnished  for  deciphering  the  rest.  Quod  erat  dcmon- 
strandiuii^\\£  concludes  with  triumphant  emphasis.  Now  if 
Professor  Ross  had  not  been  so  averse  to  a  little  knowledge 

o 

of  Sanskrit,  a  cursory  examination  of  Bopp's  Glossariitm 
Sanscritum  would  have  shown  him  that  the  Latin  words  cited 
in  that  work,  as  more  or  less  probably  connected  with  words 
found  in  Sanskrit,  make  a  list  little  less  numerous  than  that 
of  his  index — a  list  which  Bopp  could  easily  have  doubled, 
if  his  philological  principles  had  been  of  the  same  easy  and 
accommodating  character  as  our  author's.  And  yet,  were  it 
even  quadrupled,  Bopp  would  not  have  drawn  the  inference, 
which  according  to  Professor  Ross  would  be  inevitable,  that 
the  Latin  language  wras  derived  from  the  Sanskrit.  He  would 
only  have  seen  in  it  additional  proof  of  a  fact,  too  clearly 
proved  before  to  need  confirmation,  that  the  Latin  and  the 
Sanskrit  are  both  descendants  of  a  common  parent.  Profes 
sor  Ross  must  of  course  be  a\vare  that  two  languages  may 
have  a  close  and  pervading  lexical  resemblance,  without 
either  of  them  being  derived  from  the  other.  For  French 
words  we  have  to  a  great  extent  similar  words  in  Latin  :  and 
the  French  language  is  in  fact  derived  from  the  Latin.  But 
again,  for  French  words  we  have  to  a  great  extent  similar 
words  in  Spanish  :  yet  the  French  language  is  not  derived 


148  ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS. 

from  the  Spanish.  The  Scottish  bane  is  not  of  necessity  de 
rived  from  the  English  bone  :  in  fact,  there  is  no  reasonable 
doubt  that  both  have  arisen  independently  from  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  ban.  The  Latin  gcnu  is  not  of  necessity  derived  from 
the  Greek  yovv  :  it  is  at  least  equally  supposable  that  both 
may  have  arisen  independently  from  a  third  form — say  ganu 
— which  we  find,  though  with  a  degradation  of  the  initial  gut 
tural,  in  Sanskrit  y^//?/.  If  numerous  resemblances  exist  be 
tween  the  Greek  and  Latin,  there  are  three  possible  supposi 
tions  to  account  for  the  fact.  We  may  suppose,  I.  that  Lat 
in  is  derived  from  Greek  ;  2.  that  Greek  is  derived  from 
Latin  ;  or,  3.  that  Greek  and  Latin  are  separately  derived 
from  a  common  source.  Professor  Ross  adopts  the  first  of 
these  suppositions  as  the  true  one  :  to  prove  it  true,  he  was 
bound  to  show,  not  only  that  the  resemblances  are  numerous 
— for  so  they  arc  between  French  and  Spanish — but  that  they 
are  of  such  a  kind  as  to  require  the  first  supposition  rather 
than  the  other  two.  It  is  a  little  surprising  that  he  should 
have  overlooked  this  obvious  and  capital  necessity  of  his  ar 
gument.  He  has  contented  himself  with  showing  that  Greek 
and  Latin  words  are  related  in  form,  assuming  in  general, 
without  attempt  at  proof,  that  the  Latin  form  was  made  out 
of  the  Greek  by  some  euphonic  alteration  or  corruption. 
Yet  in  many  of  these  cases  it  is  improbable,  to  say  the  least, 
that  the  Latin  form  should  have  had  such  an  origin  ;  and  in 
not  a  few,  it  is  clear  enough  that  the  Latin  stands  nearer  than 
the  Greek  to  what  must  have  been  the  primitive  form.  We 
will  give  one  example  from  the  multitude  which  offer  them 
selves  to  our  hand.  Professor  Ross  says  in  express  terms, 
"  The  usual  origin  of  the  Latin  j  is  directly  (gcradczii)  from 
the  Greek  f."  As  one  instance  he  gives  us  jngum,  '  yoke  ' 
(pronounced  yuginri),  from  the  Greek  £wyov  ;  and  at  the  same 
time  refers,  apparently  with  approbation,  to  a  passage  in 
Plato's  Cratylus,  in  which  gvyov  is  derived  from  Svo  and  ayaiyi'i, 
as  that  which  binds  '  two  '  animals  for  '  drawing.'  Probably, 
however,  he  would  lay  but  little  stress  on  this  etymology, 
which  is  evidently  conjectural,  and  is  far  from  being  support 
ed  by  analogy.  But  what  shall  we  say  as  to  the  main  point  : 
arisen  out  of  %vyov  ?  The  thing,  it  must  be  owned, 


ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS.  1 49 

has  very  much  the  appearance  of  a  phonetic  miracle.  How 
a  ^tf-sound  should  transform  itself  to  ya,  it  is  not  easy  to  im 
agine.  We  assume  here  that  the  Greek  f  had  the  ordinary 
sound  of  English  z,  for  the  real  sound  cannot  have  been  far 
remote  from  this,  and  Professor  Ross  is  fully  satisfied  that  this 
and  nothing  else  was  the  real  sound.  The  opposite  change 
from  ya  to  sa  would  not  be  difficult  to  understand  ;  for  the 
ya-sound  is*  closely  connected  with  the  palatals  cha,ja,  which 
contain  a  sibilant  element  and  readily  pass  into  sibilants.  It 
is  moreover  attested  by  indisputable  cases :  thus  the  Latin 
fuguniy  which  preserves  its  initial  sound  in  Spanish  yugo,  be 
comes  giogo  in  Italian,  with  a  palatal,  and  joug  in  French, 
with  a  sibilant  at  the  beginning.  Can  any  cases  equally  in 
disputable  be  adduced  for  the  change  of  za  to  ya?  for  if  it 
can  be  shown  to  have  taken  place,  we  must  believe  it  possi 
ble,  even  though  we  cannot  understand  the  rationale.  Our 
author  presents  no  such  cases,  beyond  two  or  three  similar 
parallels  between  Greek  and  Latin  words.  Of  these  we  need 
not  notice  Latin  jungo  referred  to  Greek  Qvyvv/jM,  Latin  jugo 
to  Greek  fixyoo),  Latin  conjnx  to  Greek  ervfvjf,  which  present 
the  same  root  as  juginn  &yov,  and  .of  course  only  repeat  the 
same  question.  The  connection  of  Latin  jus,  juris,  '  broth,' 
with  Greek  £^69,  *  broth,'  £cop6v,  'pure  wine,'  is  made  pretty 
doubtful  by  the  difference  of  form  in  one  case  (fw/^o?),  and 
the  difference  of  meaning  in  the  other  (£copov)  :  if  admitted, 
we  must  still  ask  which  was  the  primitive  sound,/  or  s.  The 
comparison  of  Latin  jejunus,  '  fasting,'  with  Greek  e#£&>z/o?, 
'  well-girded  ' — scilicet,  because  a  fasting  man  can  more  easily 
clasp  his  girdle — if  made  by  an  opponent  of  Professor  Ross, 
would  have  seemed  a  broad  burlesque  of  his  view.  Latin 
major  is  compared  with  Greek  jjiei^wv :  but  here  it  is  evident 
that  j  has  not  arisen  from  f,  nor  vice  versa,  but  bothy  and  f 
from  a  combination  <yi,  gi,  or  gj  \  fjuei^cov  is  for  peyiwv  (com 
pare  e%3-p6s,  ej£$tW),  and  major  is  for  magior,  magjor  (com 
pare  the  adverb  magis,  which  retains  the  guttural).  There 
remains  Jupiter,  Greek  Zevs  Trarrjp.  But  here  it  is  plain  that 
j  and  f  are  not  derived  one  from  the  other  ;  but  both  from  a 
common  St,  djy  which  appear  in  the  Greek  Genitive  AIDS, 
)  and  in  the  Italican  Diuvci—Jovi,  to  say  nothing  of  the 


150  ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS. 

Sanskrit  dyaus,  Gen.  divas,  'heaven,'  which  corresponds 
with  wonderful  exactness  to  the  Greek  Zeu?,  AI(F}Q^.  It  thus 
appears  that  the  Greek  and  Latin  parallels  by  no  means  re 
quire  us  to  assume,  notwithstanding  the  phonetic  difficulty,  a 
change  from  ?to/.  If  other  languages  gave  no  testimony  on 
the  subject,  or  if,  with  Professor  Ross,  we  closed  our  ears  to 
their  testimony,  it  would  still  be  probable  that  the  initial  f  in 
£wyov,is  of  later  origin  than  the/  vijugum.  But  the  moment 
we  turn  to  look  at  other  languages,  it  becomes  impossible  to 
doubt.  Even  our  author  would  probably  shrink  from  main 
taining  that  the  Sanskrit  yuga,  the  Gothic  juk(a),  the  Lithu 
anian  junga-s,  and  the  Slavonic  igo,  all  show  in  their  initial 
sound  a  corruption  of  the  Greek  f. 

A  remarkable  error  which  Professor  Ross  has  made  in  this 
connection  illustrates  the  danger  of  indulging  too  far  in  an 
ignorant  contempt  for  Indo-European  philology.  Though  he 
regards  the  /  of  Jupiter  as  a  corruption  of  the  f  in  Zevs,  he 
justly  recognizes  thejofyovts  as  having  arisen  from  dj  ;  and 
in  like  manner  identifies,  no  doubt  with  correctness,  the  divine 
names  A IWVTJ  in  Greek  and  Juno  in  Latin.  But  unhappily  it 
occurs  to  him  to  go  a  step  further  in  the  same  direction,  and 
identify  the  Latin  juvcnis,  'youth,'  with  the  Greek  Sioyevij*;, 
'  akin  to  Zeus,'  which  occurs  so  often  in  Homer  as  an  epithet 
of  princes.  Now  here  is  at  once  a  difference  of  form  and  a 
difference  of  meaning,  either  one  of  which  might  have  de 
terred  a  less  adventurous  and  uncompromising  philologist. 
Apart  from  the  initial  sounds,  there  is  a  variation  of  ending — 
the  Greek  stem  being  Sioyeves,  not  Stoyev,  while  the  Latin 
stem  isjuven  (seen  in  Gen.  Plur.jttvtn-um),  or,  by  a  frequent 
assumption  of  i,jnveni  (hence  Nom.  Sing,  juvcni-s).  Pro 
fessor  Ross,  however,  regards  it  as  weak-minded  to  attach 
importance  to  such  variations  of  ending  or  inflexion.  Then 
the  change  of  7  to  v  might  occasion  some  uneasiness  to  weaker 
consciences.  True,  we  ourselves  have  guard  and  ward,  guile 
and  wile,  guaranty  and  warrant}'.  But  in  these,  iu  was  the 
original  sound,  which  first  strengthened  itself  by  a  prefixed 
guttural,  but  afterwards  fell  away  :  thus  wardygwardyg(ti)ard. 
A  change  in  the  opposite  direction  is  not  so  lightly  to  be  as 
sumed.  Yet  if  it  were  altogether  common,  we  should  feel 


ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS.  I  5  I 

some  surprise  at  finding  it  just  here.  For  the  Latin  has  the 
root  gen  in  gigno,  genus ;  and  developes  it,  not  less  widely 
than  the  Greek,  in  a  long  series  of  derivatives  and  compounds  ; 
it  might  be  expected,  therefore,  in  this  word  as  well  as  in 
others,  to  preserve  the  well-known  root  in  its  pervading  and 
familiar  form.  And,  again,  the  connection  of  meaning  be 
tween  *  one  of  Jove's  kin'  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  'young 
man'  on  the  other,  is  hardly  close  enough  to  tempt  an  ordi 
nary  philologist  to  encounter  the  difficulties  of  form  just 
enumerated.  Indeed,  it  would  seem  as  if  Professor  Ross 
himself  were  not  entirely  at  ease  about  it.  For  he  adds,  in  a 
tone  of  confidence  which  sounds  a  little  hollow,  "Forjuvenis, 
I  think  I  have  given  the  correct  explanation."  Now  here 
again  the  cognate  languages  supply  us  with  testimony,  which 
of  course  Professor  Ross  rules  out  of  court,  but  which,  if  ad 
mitted,  must  carry  overwhelming  and  decisive  weight.  The 
'L.a.tmjuvenis  reappears  with  the  same  meaning  and  with  little 
difference  of  form  in  nearly  all  the  Indo-European  languages. 
The  Sanskrit  stem  yuvan  may  be  pronounced  identical  with 
juvcn  in  the  Gen.  Plur.  juven-um  :  for  the  short  £  and  6  of 
other  languages  are  represented  in  Sanskrit  by  short  a,  that 
language  having  but  three  short  vowels,  d,  '(,  u.  The  San 
skrit-stem  has  moreover  in  part  of  its  inflexion  the  contract 
formyjiJi,  which  is  completely  identical  with  the  root  of  the 
Latin  comparative  junior,  as  also  with  the  Slavonic  jnnt 
'youth.'  The  Lithuanian  has  jauna-s ;  the  Gothic,  juggs 
(=jung-s)\  and  even  the  Welsh  presents  us  icuanc,  'youth,' 
iaiiy  'younger.'  We  have  here  a  word  which  must  have  be 
longed  to  the  primitive  Indo-European  language,  since  we 
find  it  in  unmistakable  identity  from  the  banks  of  the  Ganges 
to  those  of  the  Severn.  The  Greek  only  has  suffered  it  to 
drop,  supplying  its  place  by  another  word  not  less  early  in  its 
origin  and  not  less  extended  in  its  diffusion,  the  adjective 
ueo?,  or  rather  Z^FO?,  '  new.'  A  somewhat  similar  case  of  omis 
sion  is  presented  by  the  Latin  in  the  words  for  '  son '  and 
'daughter.'  The  prevailing  Indo-European  designation  for 
'son'  comes  from  a  root  su,  'to  beget,'  found  in  Sanskrit. 
Hence  Sanskrit  sunu  and  siita,  '  son,'  Greek  via?  for  o-f-to?, 
Gothic  sunu-Sy  Lithuanian  suna-s,  Slavonic  syn.  That  for 


152  ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS. 

'daughter'  comes,  it  should  seem,  from  the  root  duk,  'to 
milk.'  Hence  Sanskrit  duhitar,  Greek  QvyaTyp,  Gothic 
daulitar,  Lithuanian  dukte(r),  Gen.  duktere(s}>  Russian  docj, 
Irish  dear.  These,  now,  the  Latin  has  discarded,  substituting 
for  \\\cmjili7is  and  Jilia,  which  have  been  generally  regarded 
as  derivatives  from  the  root  seen  in  Greek  c/uXo?,  *  dear.'  This 
derivation,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  by  no  means  certain  ; 
though  it  seems  to  be  more  probable  than  the  one  proposed 
by  Professor  Ross,  who  takes  filins  and  Jilia  from  the  Greek 
(frvXrj,  as  if  for  (frvXios  <f>v\ia,  with  the  meaning  '  one  of  the 
family,'  male  or  female.  But  Professor  Ross  goes  further,  and 
derives  the  Greek  via?  itself  from  the  same  cpuXto?.  In  this 
instance  he  departs  from  his  usual  practice  :  for  he  has  to 
admit  here  that  the  Latin  filius  is  far  nearer  to  the  supposed 
original  form,  shows  vastly  less  corruption,  than  the  cognate 
Greek  vlo$.  Probably  the  admission  seems  to  him  harmless, 
so  long  as  the  original  form  is  seen  to  be  genuine  and  unques 
tionable  Greek.  But  the  manner  in  which  he  makes  u/os  out 
of  (f)v\Los  is  too  characteristic  to  be  omitted.  First,  the  aspi 
rate  <f>  passed  into  the  spiritns  aspcr — into  h.  For  this  change 
he  adduces  no  parallel  instance  from  the  Greek,  but  finds  it  in 
the  Latin  herb  a  for  Greek  fopfiij,  '  feed,'  a  comparison  already 
made  by  others,  but  of  doubtful  correctness.  He  finds  it 
also,  and  no  doubt  correctly,  in  the  Spanish  Jiablar  from 
fabulari,  liicrro  from  fcrrum,  hi  jo  fromjfi/ius.  ''Thus,"  he 
says,  "  the  Greek  made  i/Xto?  from  <pv\io$  :  then  \  was  elided, 
and  the  i  which  arose  in  its  place  was  absorbed  by  the  pre 
ceding  v.  Hence  [v?o?  or]  with  change  of  accent,  uto?,  to 
distinguish  the  word  from  i/eto?  ['  belonging  to  swine  '].  The 
Italian,"  he  continues,  "retained  the  old  full  form  films  = 
<j>v\tos  ;  but,  as  if  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  the 
word,  the  elided  Greek  form  returns  again  letter  for  letter  in 
the  Spanish  hijo  =  v/o?.  Can  all  this,"  he  concludes  with 
natural  exultation,  "be  made  out  and  explained  from  the 
Sanskrit  ?  "  Alas,  no — we  are  forced  to  confess,  at  the  risk 
of  degrading  the  Sanskrit  still  further  in  his  eyes— no,  it  can 
not.  But  just  as  little  can  it  be  made  out  from  Greek  and 
Latin.  It  rests  mainly  on  the  Spanish.  For  the  change  of 
(j>  to  h  no  Greek  example  is  given ;  for  the  disappearance  of  A 


ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS.  I  53 

between  two  vowels,  no  Greek  or  Latin  example/  But  the 
first  occurs  in  Latin,  and  both  are  frequent  in  Spanish  ;  and, 
therefore,  we  need  not  hesitate  to  recognize  them,  both  at 
once,  in  a  single  Greek  word. 

We  have  said  that  it  is  the  general  practice  of  Professor 
Ross,  in  his  comparisons  of  words,  to  give  priority  to  the 
Greek  form,  and  to  represent  the  Latin  as  made  from  that  by 
additions,  retrenchments,  and  other  alterations.  It  would 
even  seem  as  if  he  regarded  such  words  as  sex,  sedesy 
somnus,  etc.,  as  made  from  ef,  eSo?,  VTTVOS,  by  prefixing  an  s / 
and  words  like  vimtm,  volvo,  etc.,  as  made  from  ol^o?,  etXww, 
by  prefixing  a  v.  For  though  in  his  lists  of  these  words  he 
puts  the  Latin  form  first,  and  thus  appears  to  give  it  the  pri 
ority,  yet  he  tells  us  further  on,  that  "the  Italican  idioms 
sometimes,  though  not  often,  prefix  to  the  Greek  vowels 
other  consonants  than  s  or  v"  which  wrould  seem  to  imply 
that,  after  all,  the  s  and  v  were  really  nothing  but  prefixes 
added  to  the  corresponding  Greek  words.  We  are  willing, 
however,  to  regard  his  expression  in  this  case  as  an  unob 
served  inaccuracy  of  language.  For  an  opinion  so  perverse 
ought  not  to  be  fixed  on  any  scholar  without  the  clearest 
evidence.  But  there  are  cases  beside  that  of  wo?  from  (^uXto?, 
in  which  he  distinctly  acknowledges  corruptions  in  the  Greek 
form  which  do  not  appear  in  the  Latin.  Thus  he  admits  that 
the  Greek  has  dropped  an  ;/  in  the  common  verb  e'aw,  '  to 
permit,'  and  the  Homeric  adjective  ei/5,  '  good'  (whence  the  ad 
verb  e£, '  well ').  These  words  he  identifies  with  Latin  sino  and 
bonus.  Whether  he  considers  the  s  and  b  as  added  by  the 
Latin  or  dropped  by  the  Greek,  does  not  distinctly  appear. 
Nor  in  regard  to  the  ;/  do  we  clearly  understand  why  he 
speaks  of  it  more  than  once  as  having  been  restored  to  these 
words  by  the  Latin.  Can  he  suppose  that  the  Latin  received 
the  words  in  the  forms  seao  and  beiis,  or  sio  and  bous,  and 
reinserted  the  n  which  had  before  fallen  out  ?  How  came 
they  to  put  in  the  precise  letter  which  had  been  lost,  rather 
than  some  other  one  ?  Or  is  this  only  a  further  instance  of  inac 
curacy  in  expression,  similar  to  that  which  charity  compelled 
us  to  assume  a  moment  since  ?  As  to  the  identity  of  law  and 
sino,  of  eifc  and  bonus,  we  will  allow  it  to  rest  on  Professor 


1 54  ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS. 

Ross's  authority.  We  can  more  confidently  indorse  his  com 
parison  in  another  case  where  he  admits  the  corruption  of  the 
Greek  form  :  we  refer  to  the  genitives  >yeveos  in  Greek  and 
generis  in  Latin,  from  the  nominatives  yevos,  genus.  Yet  even 
here  he  does  not  escape  from  his  besetting  inaccuracy  of  ex 
pression  :  for  he  describes  this  as  one  of  the  cases  in  which 
"  the  Latin  inserts  a  liquid,  /,  ;/,  or  ry  between  two  vowels — 
which  liquid,"  he  continues,  "must  therefore  have  existed 
originally  in  the  Greek  form."  Why,  if  it  existed  in  the  ori 
ginal  Greek  form,  the  Latin  should  have  been  compelled  to  in 
sert  it,  docs  not  appear.  But  perhaps  our  author  only  means 
that  the  Latin  has  it  there  and  the  Greek  has  not — though  at 
an  earlier  period,  as  he  thinks,  the  Greek  also  had  it.  But  in 
this  point  again  we  cannot  fully  concur  with  him.  For  we 
think  it  certain  that  the  Greek  yeveos  never  at  any  time  had 
an  r  in  it :  that  it  has  arisen,  not  from  76^6^09,  but  from 
7eyec709.  In  proof  of  this  we  shall  not  appeal  to  Sanskrit 
neuters  in  -as,  Gen.  -asas,  which  correspond  to  Greek  nouns 
in  -09,  -eos1  :  as  manas,  Gen.  manasas=-  Greek  yu-eVo?,  Gen. 
yLte^eo?  (for  yueyeero?).  Professor  Ross  is  proof  against  proof 
of  this  kind,  however  convincing  to  others.  But  there 
is  no  need  of  it  here.  We  have  only  to  mention  three 
facts  which  our  author  himself  would  not  think  of  dispu 
ting  :  i.  The  Greek  Nom.  7^09  has  s,  which  is  most  natu 
rally  explained  as  belonging  to  the  stem,  since  neuters  of  the 
third  declension  have  no  case-sign  in  the  Nom.  Sing.;  2.  'The 
Greek,  while  it  retains  p  between  two  vowels,  has  in  a  multi 
tude  of  cases  dropped  cr  standing  in  that  position  :  as  riSeai,, 
TiQr),  for  TiQeacu  ;  3.  The  Latin,  though  it  does  not  drop  s 
between  two  vowels,  has 'in  a  multitude  of  cases  changed  it 
to  r:  as  in  Lares,  earlier  Lascs  (Carmen  Fratrum  Arvalium)  ; 
crant,  Greek  rjcrav  (r). 

Our  author's  eagerness  to  derive  every  Latin  form  directly 
from  a  Greek  one,  coupled  with  his  fixed  resolution  to  know 
nothing  of  Sanskrit,  has  betrayed  him  into  many  palpable 
errors.  Even  where  the  words  which  he  compares  are  really 
connected,  he  often  misconceives  the  relation  between  them. 
Thus  he  brings  the  Latin  bibo  directly  from  the  Greek  irivo)t 
assuming  that  both  TT  and  v  are  changed  to  b.  A  change 


ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS.  I  5  5 

of  TT  to  b  involves  no  particular  difficulty  :  but  the  change  of  v 
to  b  is  not  so  easily  admitted,  and  even  our  author  calls  it 
vercinselty  '  isolated.'  He  seems  not  to  have  observed  that 
bibo  has  the  appearance  of  a  reduplicated  form,  analogous  to 
sisto.  In  the  latter  verb,  sta,  the  stem-syllable,  by  redupli 
cation  becomes  sista,  which  then  allows  its  final  a  to  be  treated 
as  a  mere  connecting  vowel,  and  thus  conforms  to  the  third 
conjugation.  The  stem  of  TTLVW,  TTO  (as  we  find  it  in  TreTrw/ca, 
TrofoY),  if  treated  in  the  same  manner,  would  give  TTLITW  or 
bibo.  This  derivation  of  bibo,  which  would  appear,  even 
without  reference  to  the  Sanskrit,  a  plausible  hypothesis,  is 
converted  into  absolute  certainty  when  we  turn  to  that  lan 
guage  :  for  we  find  there  that  the  root/«,  '  to  drink,'  follows 
the  third  or  reduplicated  conjugation,  though  instead  of  the 
regular  pipdmi,  it  makes  Present  pivdmi,  and  in  the  Vedic 
dialect  pibdmi,  thus  approaching  very  closely  to  the  Latin 
form. 

Again,  our  author  in  many  cases  overlooks  a  certain  or  prob 
able  connection  between  the  two  languages,  substituting  for  it 
a  superficial  and  illusory  comparison.  Thus  the  Latin  cere 
brum  is  set  down  as  a  corruption  of  the  Greek  ey/ce(j)a\ov, 
'brain  ;'  though  we  must  say,  in  justice  to  Professor  Ross, 
that  he  adds  an  expression  of  doubt.  But  surely,  if  he  had 
not  been  so  intent  on  making  every  Latin  word  to  be  an 
actual  Greek  word,  only  more  or  less  corrupt,  he  would  have 
connected  cerebrum  with  /cdpa,  '  head,'  even  if  he  did  not  ex 
plain  it  with  Bopp  as  a  compound  of  cere,  Kapa,  Sanskrit 
girds,  with  fero,  (frepco,  Sanskrit  b/iri,  meaning  '  head-borne, 
carried  in  the  head  ' — equivalent  to  ey/ctyaXov,  though  wholly 
distinct  in  etymology. 

The  Latin  luna,  l  moon,'  is  repeatedly  identified  with  the 
Greek  creX?^.  Now  we  have  already  noticed  the  relation  of 
Latin  sex  and  Greek  ef,  serpo  and  epTrco,  salio  and  a\Xo//.a6,  to 
which  fifty  more  might  be  added  of  the  same  kind.  We  see 
how  tenaciously  the  Latin  preserves  the  initial  s,  and  how 
readily  the  Greek  sacrifices  it,  unless  connected  with  another 
consonant,  as  in  (TKCLTTTW,  c-reXXw,  etc.  If  a  is  retained  in  avv 
and  its  compounds,  the  reason  is  obvious  in  the  earlier  form 
fw,  where  we  find  it  connected  with  K.  That  (j^kr\vt]  itself  has 


I  56  ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS. 

preserved  the  initial  o-,  is  owing  probably  to  a  consonant  F, 
which  must  originally  have  followed  it ;  for  it  coincides  in 
root  with  Sanskrit  srar,  another  form  of  sur,  l  to  shine.' 
Yet  along  with  a-€\tfvr),  we  have  the  personal,  or  rather  the 
divine  name  rE\evrj  (moon-goddess),  which  is  probably  the 
same  word,  but  with  the  ordinary  Greek  mutation  of  initial 
a  to  h.  If,  therefore,  luna  had  been  the  Greek  form, 
and  o-€\ijvrj  the  Latin,  the  connection  of  the  two  might  have 
appeared  more  plausible  ;  as  it  is,  we  must  regard  it  as  in  a 
high  degree  improbable.  But,  if  unconnected  with  each 
other,  neither  of  the  two  is  without  connections  in  the  other 
language.  Luna  is  for  Inc-na  (compare  liuiicn  for  luc-men), 
connected  with  lux  and  In  ceo  in  Latin,  and  with  Aeu/co?, 
AeiWw  in  Greek.  And  o-eX^vrj,  on  the  other  hand,  is  con 
nected  with  c-eXa?,  '  brightness,'  which  is  clearly  akin  to 
the  Latin  sol.  These  obvious  relations  our  author  has  over 
looked,  in  consequence  of  his  determination  to  connect  every 
Latin  word  directly  with  a  Greek  word  of  the  same  meaning. 
The  Latin  opus  is  represented  as  identical  with  the  Greek 
em)?,  '  word,'  the  exact  correspondence  of  form  find  inflexion 
being  regarded  as  decisive  proof  of  identity,  notwithstanding 
a  pretty  wide  difference  of  meaning.  Why  our  author  should 
lay  so  much  stress  here  on  coincidence  of  form  is  not  quite 
easy  to  understand  :  for  with  the  almost  unlimited  range 
which  he  allows  to  mutations  of  form,  such  coincidences  might 
easily  arise  by  accident  in  words  originally  different.  And  in 
fact  he  himself  says  elsewhere,  in  opposing  some  etymologies 
of  Mommsen,  that  'Mike-sounding  is  not  necessarily  of  like 
sort"  (gleichlatitendes  nicJit  nothwendig gleichartig  ist)  :  and 
proceeds  to  illustrate  the  maxim  by  giving  three  different  ex 
planations  to  the  sul  in  consul,  cxsul,  and  prcesul :  prcesul— 
prce-silicns,  '  leading  in  the  dance  ;  '  ex  sul=ex  solo,  '  driven 
out  from  his  native  soil  ;  '  while  consul  is  only  a  corruption  of 
the  Greek — crvfjL/3ov\o<$ !  %vv  and  con  are  one  preposition, 
and  /3ciA,o?,  by  a  simple  change  of  {3  to  s,  comes  very  near  to 
sul.  But  in  speaking  of  opus  and  ezro?,  he  says  that  "  where 
letters  and  inflexion  both  coincide,  we  cannot  refuse  to 
acknowledge  the  identity  ;  "  and  he  mentions  Latin  sidus, 
1  constellation/  and  Greek  etSo9,  '  form,  figure,'  as  another  in- 


ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS.  157 

stance  of  the  same  kind.  Unluckily  the  supposed  coinci 
dence  does  not  exist  in  either  case.  EZSo?  is  not  for  cret8o?7 
but  for  ^etSo9  :  the  original  F  is  abundantly  proved  by  the  ap 
pearances  of  the  Homeric  verse,  and  by  the  close  relation  to 
elSov,  '  I  saw/  where  Professor  Ross  justly  recognizes  it,  com 
paring  Latin  video.  So,  too,  evro?  is  really  FETTO^  :  no  word  in 
Homer  presents  more  unquestionable  traces  of  the  initial  F,  to 
say  nothing  of  inscriptions  which  show  us  the  letter  itself. 
But  FeTro?  cannot  properly  be  said  to  coincide  in  form  with 
opus,  unless  we  are  willing  to  say  that  Xe-rro?,  '  peel,'  or  mvro?, 
'  glen,'  coincides  with  opus :  and  even  in  meaning  these  are 
not  much  further  away  than-  677-09.  We  will  venture  here  to 
offer  a  suggestion.  A  Sanskrit  root  like  dp,  Professor  Ross, 
we  fear,  would  reject  with  scorn.  After  deriving  mas,  '  male/ 
from  Greek  /jt,dj(\o$,  '  wanton,'  by  omission  of  %  and  change 
of  \  to  r  (though,  by  the  way,  masculus  shows  the  Latin  stem 
to  be,  not  mar,  but  mas),  he  says  to  his  correspondent,  "  if 
that  won't  do,  make  me  another  mas  :  but,  mind  you,  he 
must  be  Greek  (aber  wohlgemerkt ,  griechisch  muss  er  seiii}" 
Now  we  wonder  that  he  did  not  find  his  Greek  opus  in  /COTTO?, 
which  has  the  meaning  '  toil,  fatigue.'  The  decapitation  of 
the  word  (if  I  may  so  term  the  suppression  of  initial  K)  he 
could  defend  by  Latin  apcr,  which  he  identifies  with  Greek 
/caTrpos.  And  the  neuter  ending  us  (36  decl.)  instead  of  mas 
culine  09  (2d  decl.),  if  it  gave  him  any  trouble,  could  be  sup 
ported  by  Latin  corpus,  carports,  '  body,'  which  he  derives 
from  Greek  /copras,  Kopfiov,  '  a  block  cut  from  a  tree.'  And 
yet  it  is  almost  a  pity  to  say  anything  against  the  eiro^-opus 
etymology  :  for  thereby  hangs  an  interesting  piece  of  literary 
history,  which  we  give  as  we  find  it.  "According  to  these 
analogies,  opus  is  nothing  but  eVo?,  and  we  gain  the  conclu 
sion,  certainly  not  unimportant  for  Greek  literary  history  and 
the  question  as  to  the  antiquity  of  Greek  literature,  that, 
in  the  earliest  period,  67709  had  passed  from  the  meaning 
'word'  to  the  meaning  'work  of  poetry,'  and  hence  'work' 
in  general  :  for  only  thus  could  it  come  to  the  Italican  opus. 
As,  therefore,  in  the  last  centuries  opera,  'work,'  has  passed 
into  the  opera  of  music  and  poetry,  so  in  opus  the  opposite 
change  must  have  taken  place  from  three  to.  four  thousand 


158  ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEK$. 

years  ago.'-'  But  we  must  add  that  eVo?,  though  unconnected 
with  opus,  has  its  kindred  in  Latin.  The  same  root  reir  ap 
pears  in  the  aorist  elvro^.  Homer  ereiirov  for  erereTrov  ;  and, 
with  a  regular  variation  of  vowel,  in  the  noun  oSjr,  that  is, 
FOTT-S,  'voice.'  But  no  one  who  observes  how  often  the 
Greek  has  substituted  a  labial  sound  for  a  primitive  guttural 
can  hesitate  to  identify  FOTT-?  with  Latin  vox,  voc-is,  whence 
the  verb  voco,  vocarc.  This  unquestionable  connection  is  over 
looked  by  our  author,  who  derives  voco  from  Greek  fiodco,  '  to 
cry.'  He  must  certainly  have  forgotten  the  Latin  boo,  boare, 
which  corresponds  exactly  in  form  and  in  meaning  to  Greek 
/3oda).  Both  these  have  a  common  derivation,  either  directly 
from  /SoO?,  bos ;  or,  more  probably,  from  a  root  /3u=Sanskrit 
gu,  '  to  sound,'  from  which  /3ov$  bos  are  also  derivatives  :  in 
any  case  they  are  radically  distinct  from  voco  and  elirov. 

We  will  mention  further  an  interesting,  not  to  say  amusing, 
derivation  of  populus.  Professor  Ross  considers  it  as  a 
diminutive  of  TTOTTO?,  a  word  which  occurs  only  in  the  Homeric 
exclamation  a)  TTOTTQI.  This  has  been  regarded  generally  by 
recent  grammarians  as  a  mere  interjection  ;  but  our  author 
contends,  not  without  force,  from  its  connection  with  co,  and 
its  appearance  only  at  the  commencement  of  addresses,  that 
it  must  have  been  a  real  vocative.  But  he  discards  the  ex 
planation  of  ancient  grammarians,  who  make  it  mean  Sal/nove?, 
'  divinities,'  and  adopts  out  of  his  own  head  the  meaning 
'men,  people.'  It  thus  serves  him  a  double  purpose,  not 
only  accounting  forflofluhis,  but  also  for ////// j,  pupa,  pupnlus, 
'a.  boy  or  girl,  a  mannikin  or  doll.'  At  the  same  time,  he 
does  not  altogether  discredit  the  statement  of  Plutarch  that 
the  Dryopes  used  TTOTTOL  for  Saijjioves,  '  divinities  ; '  and  that  of 
a  grammarian  in  Bekker's  Anecdota,  that  the  Scythians  used 
it  for  cvyd\/4a,Ta,  'images.'  He  suggests  in  explanation  that, 
as  the  oldest  idols  of  the  Dryopes  were  certainly  pretty  rude 
and  inartificial,  people  may  have  given  them  the  name  of 
inannikins ;  and  that  the  Greeks  may  have  ridiculed  the 
Scythian  images  by  the  same  disparaging  epithet.  And  if 
Zeus  in  Homer  commences  a  speech  to  the  divine  assembly 
on  Olympus  with  o>  ironroi,  our  author  looks  upon  the  address, 
*O  folks'  (ok  leittchdi)  as  a  flattering  expression  of  familiar 


IT^LLICANS  AND  GREEKS.  159 

confidence  (vertraulich  und  schmeichelnd).  He  fails  to  ob 
serve  that  c5  TTOTTOL  is  used  by  Homer  even  in  addresses  to  a 
single  individual,  showing  that  it  must  already  have  lost  its 
meaning,  if  it  ever  had  any,  as  a  plural  substantive,  and  sunk 
down  into  a  mere  exclamation.  Nor  does  it  strike  us  as  very 
probable  that  the  Dryopes  would  call  their  sacred  images 
puppets,  or  that  the  Italicans  would  designate  the  collective 
nationality  as  a  little  man.  Considering  these  improbabili 
ties,  as  well  as  the  total  absence  of  direct  proof  for  the  mean 
ing  '  men '  given  to  TTOTTOI,  we  shall  adhere  for  the  present  to 
the  etymology  which  makes  populus  a  reduplicated  form  of  the 
stem  which  appears  in  TrXeco?,  '  full,'  7rA?}$o9,  '  multitude,'  and 
perhaps  in  7ro?U9,  '  city.' 

It  must  be  evident  already  that  Professor  Ross  is  one  of 
those  resolute  philologists  who  are  not  easily  turned  aside 
from  their  purpose  by  vowels  and  consonants.  He  laughs 
good-naturedly  at  his  weaker  brethren,  who  trouble  them 
selves  about  anlaut,  inlaut,  ablaut,  umlaut,  and  all  the  other 
lauts.  For  himself,  he  has  no  idea  of  paying  too  much 
respect  to  letters  and  syllables  ;  he  has  in  fact  the  lowest  pos 
sible  opinion  of  their  steadiness.  This  is  a  result  of  his  exten 
sive  and  valuable  travels  in  lands  and  islands  where  Greek  is 
spoken.  The  endless  variations  of  the  local  dialects  have  im 
pressed  him  deeply  with  the  extreme  mutability  of  spoken 
sounds,  and  have  thus  given  him  what  he  regards  as  a  peculiar 
qualification  for  his  present  undertaking.  He  commences  his 
Preface  with  a  long  list  of  corrupt  forms,  brought  together 
out  of  the  various  and  widely  separated  patois  of  the  modern 
Greek  :  and  he  has  no  difficulty  in  admitting  such  corruptions, 
any  or  all,  as  means  for  effecting  the  proposed  transmutation 
of  Greek  into  Latin.  In  particular  the  modern  Greek  /capa- 
^>X6??  '  bald,'  for  the  ancient  (f>a\aKpds,  has  convinced  him  that 
the  order  in  which  the  letters  of  a  word  may  stand  is  pretty 
much  a  matter  of  indifference,  and  that  so  long  as  you  have 
all  of  them  in  one  aggregate,  or  most  of  them,  or  others  more 
or  less  resembling  most  of  them,  you  need  not  concern  your 
self  about  the  particular  succession.  The  transposition  ol 
vowels  and  liquids — metathesis — is  an  ordinary  and  familiar 
phenomenon  of  language.  But  our  author's  transpositions 


160  ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS. 

take  a  far  .wider'  range.  Thus  vcrto  is  derived  from  rpeTra)  by 
spelling  the  root  backwards,  ipeir — pert,  and  by  change  of/ 
to  •£',  ff/'A  The  Latin  word  is  thus  made  to  illustrate  its  own 
meaning  by  a  complete  turn-about  :  and  if  the  Sanskrit  has 
the  same  form  vart.  Present  vartumi,  it  may  perhaps  be 
ascribed  to  a  certain  original  perversity  in  that  mischief-mak 
ing  language.  The  adjective  ra^i;?,  '  swift,'  by  a  similar  pro 
cess  is  converted  into  ^<ZTU?,  which  readily  furnishes  citns : 
though  the  Latin  word,  if  we  could  suppose  it  endowed  with 
consciousness,  might  feel  some  surprise  at  this  sudden  disrup 
tion  from  do,  '  to  move,  stir,'  with  which  it  has  been  so  long 
and  so 'comfortably  connected,  and  the  total  revolution  which 
it  is  compelled  to  undergo.  The  Latin  famulus  is  derived  by 
transposition  of//,  and  \,  and  by  interchange  of  rough  mutes, 
from  Greek  $aXo.yuo?,  'chamber.'  That  a  valet-de-chambre 
should  be  called  simply  and  shortly  chamber,  is  perhaps  not 
incredible  ;  yet  we  must  confess  a  preference,  on  the  score 
both  of  form  and  meaning,  for  the  derivation  from  facio — 
famulus  for  fac-mnlus,  with  the  same  ending  and  the  same 
omission  of  a  guttural  as  in  stimulus  for  stig-mulus,  which 
Professor  Ross  refers,  probably  with  good  reason,  to  the  root 
of  Greek  o-Ti'fw,  '  to  stick.'  In  some  cases  we  should  be  much 
at  a  loss  if  our  author  were  not  kind  enough  to  explain  his 
processes.  In  8njrao>,  '  to  thirst,'  he  assures  us  (we  quote  his 
words)  that  "  the  IT  falls  out,  the  a  and  S  are  transposed  and 
thus  we  get  o-iSday,  Latin  st'tio."  In  alcr&dvofjiat,,  '  to  perceive,' 
the  Future  ala-S-ijaropai  gives  evidence  of  a  Present  aio-Qew, 
which  is  supposed  to  be  for  ava&eco  :  and  this,  by  transferring 
<T  from  the  middle  to  the  beginning  of  the  word,  gives  cravSeay, 
from  which  any  one  can  easily  find  his  way  to  Latin  sentio. 
In  other  cases  the  explanation  itself  requires  to  be  explained. 
For  the  Greek  ly§vs,  '  fish,'  he  assumes  a  change  of  %$  to  i/r, 
giving  f\|rf9  (which  has  remained,  he  thinks,  in  the  common 
word  o^rov,  'fish,  or  flesh  eaten  with  bread'),  and  then  he 
adds:  "From  n/w?  the  Italicans  by  transposition  formed 
their  Disci's."  We  have  tried  to  spell  the  word  ityvs  in  every 
possible  order  of  the  letters  :  but  we  have  not  yet  succeeded 
in  making  out  the  form  piscis.  Manage  as  we  will,  there  is 
always  a  K=C  wanting.  May  it  not  be  that  the  Italican  se- 


ITALICANS  AND  GR 

cured  his  piscis  by  an  ingenious  combinatioi 
with  the  supposed  n/ru?,  getting  his  /  from  one  and  his  c  from 
the  other  ?  And  were  the  Goths  then  obliged  to  go  through 
with  the  same  process,  which  certainly  is  a  little  complex, 
to  form  their  fisk(a)s,  which  corresponds  exactly  to  the  Latin 
piscis  ? 

We  will  only  add  two  or  three  cases  to  illustrate  further  the 
startling  originality  and  the  bold  defiance  of  difficulties  which 
characterize  Professor  Ross  as  an  etymologist.  The  Latin 
(minis,  '  river,'  he  derives  from  Greek  de\\a,  '  blast  '  ('stream 
of  air,'  and  hence  '  stream  of  water')  ;  and  in  like  manner 
omnis,  '  all,'  from  Greek  doXXrj?,  '  collected  together  ;  '  in 
both  he  assumes,  without  other  examples,  the  rather  remarka 
ble  euphonic  change  of  XA  into  mn.  Amo,  '  to  love,'  he  derives 
from  Greek  dyajrw,  through  a  supposed  intermediate  form 
ayTTo),  which  most  philologists  would  regard  as  still  inconve 
niently  and  discouragingly  remote  from  amo.  Auric  io,  '  to 
clothe,'  he  derives  not  from  am  andjacio,  '  to  throw  around,' 
but  from  Greek  afifaevvvfii,.  The  prefix  am  is  doubtless  con 
nected  with  dfj,<f)£ :  but  few  philologists  would  venture  to  de 
rive  icio  from  evvvpi  (or  rea-vv^t,)  ;  even  our  author  only 
states  the  fact,  without  adding  an  explanation.  Of  course  he 
could  give  one,  if  called  upon  :  did  he  think  it  too  easy  and 
obvious  to  require  insertion  ?  He  does  better  for  us,  when 
he  derives  duco,  '  to  lead,'  from  Greek  yyeofjiat, :  for  he  gives 
us  the  Etruscan  lucumo,  derived  from  Greek  qye/jLcoV)  as  a  key 
to  unlock  the  enigma.  The  /,  he  tells  us,  takes  the  place  of  a 
spiritus  aspcr  :  but  /  and  d  are  often  interchanged  (as  lacrima 
=  SaKpv/jLa)  ;  and  the  vowel-change  is  supported  by  luna  from 
creXtfvT)  :  and  thus — -all  is  clear. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  from  what  we  have  said  that  Pro 
fessor  Ross  recognizes  no  such  thing  as  fixity  or  permanence 
in  language.  Whatever  else  may  change,  one  thing  has  re 
mained  constant  from  the  beginning,  secure  "amid  the  wreck 
of  letters  and  the  crush  of  words;"  and  that  is  the  modern 
Greek  pronunciation  of  vowels,  consonants,  and  diphthongs. 
"  I  consider  it,"  he* says,  "  as  being  from  the  time  of  Inachus, 
or  whatever  else  may  be  more  ancient  than  Inachus,  the  only 
correct  pronunciation."  All  honor  to  courageous  faith  !  It  is 
1 1 


1 62  ITALIC  A  NS  AND  GREEKS. 

something,  as  the  world  goes,  to  believe  in  the  historic  reality 
of  Inachus,  a  millennium  earlier  than  the  earliest  known  mon 
uments  of  the  Greek  language.  But  it  is  much  more  to  be- 
lieve  that  the  Greeks,  when  they  first  adopted  the  Phoenician 
alphabet,  added  a  v  only  to  express  a  sound  already  ex 
pressed  by  i  ;  and  that,  having  afterwards  applied  the  T;  to  ex 
press  the  long  quantity  of  this  same  sound,  they  were  not  yet 
satisfied,  but  took  up  ei,  rji,  ot,  ut,  as  four  additional  represen 
tatives  of  a  sound  which  had  three  representatives  already  : 
and  then  that  the  old  Greek  grammarians  should  have  made 
the  enormous  blunder  of  describing  this  sound,  when  repre 
sented  by  77,  as  a  prolongation  of  e  :  with  much  more  of  the 
same  kind,  which  is  inseparable  from  a  belief  in  the  primitive 
antiquity  of  the  modern  Greek  pronunciation.  It  is  not 
surprising,  perhaps,  that  early  prepossession  and  patriotic  en 
thusiasm  should  lead  the  modern  Greek  to  credit  such  mar 
vels  :  though  in  a  distinguished  member  of  our  own  Society, 
who  has  written  on  the  ancient  pronunciation  of  his  language, 
we  see  that  such  influences  are  not  always  proof  against  in 
vestigation  and  reason.  But  we  should  hardly  have  expected 
that  Professor  Ross's  travels  in  Greece,  extensive  and  useful 
as  they  have  been,  would  so  far  transform  him  into  a  native 
Greek. 

We  have  seen  that  our  author,  though  always  disposed  to 
regard  the  Latin  word  as  the  corruption  of  an  extant  Greek 
word,  is  yet  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  in  some  cases  the 
extant  Greek  word  is  the  corruption  of  a  form  more  faithfully 
preserved  in  Latin.  Nor  is  there  any  good  reason  why  he 
should  not  have  done  this  much  more  frequently.  For  he 
holds  that  the  separation  of  the  Greek  and  Italican  races  oc 
curred  at  a  very  remote  period,  ages  before  the  time  at  which 
the  Greek  language  first  becomes  known  to  us.  He  sup 
poses  that  the  Greek  colonization  of  Italy  may  have  com 
menced  some  two  thousand  years  before  the  Christian  era, 
and  perhaps  far  earlier.  And  though  he  regards  it  as  having 
been  in  progress  for  several  centuries,  he  intimates  that 
nearly  all  the  words  which  passed  from  Greece  to  Italy  must 
have  been  carried  over  before  the  Greek  itself  was  reduced  to 
writing.  And  the  Greeks,  he  tells  us,  had  the  art  of  writing, 


ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS.  163 

and  used  it,  for  fifteen  centuries  before  Christ.  Professor 
Ross,  it  appears,  believes  in  Cadmus  as  well  as  Inachus,  and 
perhaps  in  tradition  generally  :  he  thinks  it  very  hard  that 
Daedalus,  for  instance,  should  be  stripped  of  his  individual 
historic  personality,  and  made  to  be  only  what  his  name 
means,  a  *  cunning  artificer/  merely  because  he  was  unfortu 
nate  enough  to  live  a  few  centuries  earlier  than  some  other 
men.  Possibly  a  respect  for  tradition  may  have  led  him  to 
assign  a  date  so  early  for  the  Italican  migrations.  For  he 
might  naturally  think  that  a  body  of  tradition,  which  he  ac 
cepts  as  reliable,  would  have  included  these  migrations,  if 
they  had  not  been  in  great  part  anterior  to  its  beginning. 
Let  us  then  take  the  year  2000  B.C.  as  a  convenient  middle 
term  between  the  extremes  of  time  suggested  by  his  lan 
guage  :  his  theory  would  be,  that  two  thousand  years  before 
Christ,  be  the  same  more  or  less,  the  Greek  language  was 
carried  into  Italy.  But  what,  we  may  ask,  was  the  Greek 
language  of  the  year  2000  B.C.  ?  It  might  be  hard  to  tell  ; 
but  it  would  be  easy  to  see  that  it  was  something  widely  dif 
ferent  from  the  language  of  Homer.  For  if  we  carry  Homer 
back  to  the  year  900,  and  he  cannot  with  probability  be  car 
ried  further,  he  is  still  separated  from  2000  B.C.  by  a  broad 
gulf  of  eleven  centuries.  What  was  English  eleven  centuries 
ago  ?  Something  quite  as  hard  for  us  to  understand  and 
learn  as  modern  German.  Who  from  the  English  of  the 
present  day,  or  the  French  or  German  of  the  present  day, 
could  without  other  helps  form  any  tolerable  conception  of 
those  languages  as  they  were  eleven  centuries  ago  ?  Our 
author,  it  is  true,  appears  to  regard  the  Greek  of  2000  B.C. 
as  not  very  different,  either  lexically  or  grammatically,  from 
the  literary  language.  The  division  of  dialects  he  conceives  of 
as  already  established  at  that  early  period.  But  what  assu 
rance  can  he  give  that  even  the  grand  distinctions  which  sepa 
rate  Ionic  and  Doric — the  rj  for  long  a  among  vowels, 
and  the  a  for  a  primitive  r  among  consonants — were  developed 
eleven  centuries  before  the  time  of  Homer  ?  Yet  he  goes  so 
far  as  to  point  out  Laconian  forms  in  the  Italican  idioms,  and 
asserts  that  the  Sabines  were  mainly  Laconians.  The  philo 
logical  reason  for  this  statement,  which  has  no  support  in  tra- 


1 64  ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS. 

dition,  must  be  that  some  Sabine  words  are  thought  to  re 
semble  the  peculiar  forms  of  the  Laconian  dialect  more  closely 
than  they  do  the  other  dialects  of  Greek.  But  many  Latin 
words  have  a  closer  resemblance  to  the  Sanskrit  forms  than 
to  those  of  any  Greek  dialect  :  as  scptcm,  Sanskrit  saptan, 
Greek  eTrrd ;  jiigum,  Sanskrit  yugam,  Greek  £vydv  ;  jeciir, 
Sanskrit  yakrit,  Greek  rjjrap  ;  corvns,  Sanskrit  kdravas, 
Greek  icopaj;  ;  and  a  hundred  others.  Shall  we  say  then  that 
the  Latins  were  mainly  Hindus  ? 

But  the  comparative  philologist  can  prove  conclusively  that 
the  Greek  of  2000  B.C.,  assuming  that  the  Latin  was  derived 
from  it,  must  have  differed  immensely  from  any  known  Greek 
dialect  of  the  historic  time.  For  in  cases  where  the  Latin 
agrees  with  the  prevailing  type  of  the  Indo-European  lan 
guages  and  the  Greek  departs  from  it,  this  departure,  it  is 
plain,  could  not  have  belonged  to  that  supposed  Greek  lan 
guage  which  was  imported  into  Latiurn.  To  assert  that  the 
original  type  was  first  abandoned  in  Greece  and  afterwards 
restored  in  Italy  (as  our  author  appears  to  do  in  one  or  two 
places,  if  his  language  is  to  be  strictly  construed)  is  a  gratui 
tous  assumption,  and  an  improbable  one.  We  can  only  bring 
forward  here  a  few  prominent  facts  to  illustrate  the  mode  of 
reasoning  just  indicated,  and  for  convenience  we  will  give 
the  name  "  Grseco-Italican  "  to  that  primitive  Greek  (if  Greek 
it  was)  from  which  the  Italican  idioms  are  supposed  to  have 
sprung,  and  which  our  author  imagines  to  have  been  the 
spoken  language  of  Greece  about  2000  B.C.  We  say  then 
that  this  Grseco-Italican  must  have  preserved  the  initial  s 
before  a  vowel,  which  all  the  Greek  dialects  have  changed 
into  //  /  thus  it  must  have  had  sex  not  ef,  scrpo  not  epTrco, 
sistdmi  not  tcm7/u,  and  many  others.  So  too  it  must  have 
preserved  the  medial  s  between  vowels,  in  many  forms  where 
all  the  Greek  dialects  omitted  it,  and  where  the  Latin  has 
changed  it  to  r;  thus  nitsos,  'daughter  in  law/  not  vvo$, 
Latin  nurus  ;  vises,  'poison, 'not  169,  Latin  virus  ;  gencsos, 
'  of  birth,'  not  ryeveos,  yevovs,  Latin  generis.  It  must  have 
preserved  the  final  m,  which  all  the  Greek  dialects  have 
changed  to  v,  or  (after  a]  have  dropped  altogether:  thus 
6vomy  '  egg,'  not  wbv,  Latin  ovum;  pateram,  'father/  not 


ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS.  165 

Trarepa,  Latin  patrem  ;  esiem,  'I  might  be,'  not  efyv,  Old 
Lat.  stem;  esam,  'I  \vas,'  not  rja  or  rjv,  Latin  cram  for  esain. 
It  must  have  preserved  the  final  t,  which  all  the  Greek  dia 
lects  have  rejected,  but  which  the  Latin  retains  either  as  t  or 
d:  thus  esiet,  'he  might  be,'  not  eirj,  Old  Lat.  sict ;  csant, 
'  they  were,'  not  fjaav,  Latin  erant  for  csant ;  alyot,  '  other,' 
not  aXXo,  Latin  aliud.  It  must  have  preserved  the  conso 
nant  y,  which,  after  producing  a  multitude  of  euphonic 
changes,  vanished  from  all  the  dialects  of  Greek,  but  which 
the  Latin  retains  or  changes  to  i  •  thus  yugom,  'yoke,'  not 
£v<y6v,  Latin  jugum  f  jepar,  or  rather  jekar,  'liver,'  not  rjTrap, 
Latin  jccur  /  salyomai,  'to  leap,'  not  aXko^ai,  Latin  salio. 
In  the  inflexion  of  nouns,  the  Graeco-Italican  must  have  had 
a  case  which  in  all  the  Greek  dialects  has  vanished  from  case- 
inflexion,  the  ablative  in  /,  Latin  d:  thus  dolot,  'from  art,1 
Oscan  dolnd,  Old  Latin  dolod=dolo ;  1121  ctot  'from  night,' 
Latin  noct-e,  earlier  noctcd.  In  the  comparative  degree  of 
adjectives,  it  must  have  had  the  form  ions.  Gen.  ionsos,  or 
iyonSy  Gen.  iyonsos,  like  Sanskrit  iyatfis,  Gen.  iyasas.  From 
this  ending  the  Greek  in  all  its  dialects  omitted  the  s,  leaving 
lov  (Nom.  uov,  iov],  Gen.  LOVOS  ;  while  the  Latin  omitted  the 
nt  leaving  iost  iosis,  which  afterwards  became  tor,  ioris. 
Thus  to  Sanskrit  mahfyansas,  'greater'  (Nom.  Plur.),  cor 
responded  a  Graeco-Italican  magi(y)onses,  Greek  fjuetfyves, 
Latin  ma(g)joses,  which  is  expressly  handed  down  as  the 
earlier  form  of  major cs.  In  the  verb  it  must  have  preserved 
the  old  infinitive  in  tuiii,  tu,  which  remains  in  Latin  as  in 
Sanskrit,  but  which  in  all  the  Greek  dialects  appears  only  as 
a  verbal  noun,  without  the  proper  character  of  an  infinitive. 
It  must  have  preserved  likewise  the  old  perfect  participle 
passive  in  tos,  which  remains  in  Latin  as  in  Sanskrit,  but 
which  in  all  the  Greek  dialects  appears  only  as  an  adjective, 
without  the  proper  character  of  a  participle. 

This  enumeration  of  a  few  leading  points  may  suffice  to 
show  that  the  supposed  Grseco-Italican  must  have  differed 
very  widely,  not  only  from  the  known  dialects  of  Greek,  but 
also  from  the  common  or  unitary  Greek  language,  out  of 
which  these  dialects  sprang,  and  to  which  we  may  ascribe 
such  features  as  belong  alike  to  all  of  them.  Now  we  cannot, 


1 66  ITALICANS  AND  GREEKS. 

with  any  approach  to  certainty,  assign  the  period  at  which 
this  unitary  Greek  began  to  undergo  the  changes  which  re 
sulted  in  the  formation  of  its  various  dialects.  But  one  thing 
we  can  say  with  entire  certainty,  in  view  of  such  evidence  as 
that  just  presented.  We  can  say  that  the  period  here  referred 
to,  however  remote  it  may  have  been,  was  long  subsequent 
to  another — to  the  period  when  the  assumed  Graeco-Italican 
began  to  undergo  the  changes  which  terminated  at  last  in  the 
formation  of  the  Greek  with  its  dialects  on  the  one  hand,  and  on 
the  other  in  the  formation  of  the  Italican  idioms,  Latin,  Oscan, 
Umbrian,  and  the  rest.  Our  Graeco-Italican  is  thus  driven 
far  back  into  the  darkness  of  an  ante-historic  past.  When 
our  author  asserts  that  it  was  spoken  in  Greece  and  carried 
over  by  sea  from  Greece  to  Italy,  he  asserts  that  which  may 
be  true,  though  he  is  very  far  from  having  proved  it  so. 
But  when  he  puts  it  later  than  the  formation  of  the  Greek 
dialects,  and  makes  it  in  fact  a  mixture  of  those  dialects,  he 
maintains  that  which  is  certainly  and  clemonstrably  untrue. 
The  real  question  for  philological  study  at  the  present  time  is, 
whether  there  was  any  such  Gra^co-Italican,  distinct  from 
the  primitive  Indo-European  language  ;  in  other  words, 
whether  there  was  any  special  relation  between  Greek  and 
Latin,  more  than  between  either  of  them  and  the  Armenian, 
for  instance,  or  the  Gothic.  It  has  been,  and  still  is,  the  pre 
vailing  opinion  that  there  is  a  special  relation  between  Greek 
and  Latin  ;  that  both  have  sprung  from  a  common  Gra^co- 
Italican,  distinct  from,  and  of  course  posterior  to,  the  primi 
tive  Indo-European.  This  view  is  set  forth  in  the  works 
both  of  Mommsen  and  of  Curtius.  But  there  are  respectable 
philologists  who  maintain  the  opposite  opinion. 

Before  concluding,  we  ought,  perhaps,  to  offer  a  word  of 
apology.  We  have,  perhaps,  fallen  below  the  dignity  of  this 
occasion,  in  giving  an  extended  notice  of  a  work  so  slight 
and  unimportant — a  work  proceeding,  it  is  true,  from  an  ac 
complished  classical  scholar,  and  a.  justly  esteemed  traveller 
in  classic  lands,  but  unworthy  alike  of  his  position  and  his 
reputation.  Possibly  some  little  mixture  of  the  light  or  the 
amusing  may  be  found  to  season  not  disagreeably  the  or 
dinary  gravity  of  our  assemblies.  We  will  not  confess  here— 


ITALIC ANS  AND  GREEKS.  1 67 

we  are  ashamed  to  own  it  even  to  ourselves — a  certain  secret 
satisfaction  in  finding  that  Germany — before  which  we  hide 
our  diminished  heads,  acknowledging  her  to  be  first  without 
second  in  philological  studies — can  send  out  from  the  high 
places  of  her  universities  specimens  of  fantastic  absurdity 
scarcely  equalled  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  A  more  legi 
timate  pleasure  may  be  derived  from  a  book  which  allows  us 
to  see  the  immense  difference  between  the  present  and  the 
past — between  the  Indo-European  philology,  with  all  the  de 
ficiencies  and  uncertainties  that  cleave  to  it,  and  the  unscien 
tific  and  unsatisfactory  etymologizing  that  preceded  it.  If 
at  times  we  grow  weary  of  the  twilight  in  which  we  still  move, 
and  sigh  with  despairing  hope  for  the  perfect  day,  it  may  be 
well  that  a  Professor  Ross  should  come,  and  open  for  us  a 
glimpse  into  the  darkness  visible,  the  realm  of  chaos  and  old 
night,  which  we  have  left  behind  us,  as  we  trust,  finally  and 
forever. 


IX. 

ON   INDO-EUROPEAN    ASPIRATE?  MUTES. 
1862. 

IN  order  to  understand  fully  the  relations  of  the  Indo-Euro 
pean  languages,  we  need  to  know  the  forms  of  that  primi 
tive  speech  from  which  they  have  all  set  out  on  their  diver 
gent  progress.  Hence  it  must  be  the  object  of  comparative 
philology  to  reconstruct  the  original  Indo-European  language 
as  it  was  spoken  by  the  common  ancestors  of  Hindu  and  Per 
sian,  Greek  and  Goth  and  Gael.  That  this  is  an  object  not 
to  be  easily  or  soon  attained,  is  obvious  enough  :  it  is  rather 
an  ideal  to  be  aimed  at  than  a  result  which  we  can  expect  to 
see  realized.  In  any  such  attempt  at  reconstruction,  the  first 
point  must  be  to  determine  the  phonetic  system  of  the  primi 
tive  language  ;  what  elements  of  sound  were  heard  and  utter 
ed  by  our  forefathers  in  that  early  time  when  as  yet  Sanskrit 
and  Greek,  German  and  Celtic,  had  no  separate  existence. 
It  may  seem  at  first  view  almost  chimerical  to  think  of  re 
calling  the  fugitive  sounds  of  a  period  so  remote  from  our 
own  ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  their  echoes  have  been 
sounding  in  Asia  and  Europe  down  to  the  present  day.  By 
comparing  the  phonetic  systems  of  the  different  Indo-Euro 
pean  languages,  we  may  ascertain  in  many  cases  with  a  high 
degree  of  probability  the  phonetic  elements  which  belonged 
to  their  common  mother.  I  propose  to  give  a  specimen  of 
such  inquiries,  by  discussing  the  aspirate  mutes  of  the  original 
Indo-European  language.  Did  that  language  possess  aspirate 
mutes  ;  and  if  so,  what  were  they,  and  how  were  they  sound 
ed  ?  First,  then,  let  us  see  what  letters  of  this  class  we  find 
in  the  various  languages,  especially  the  ancient  languages,  of 
our  family. 

The  Sanskrit  has  the  greatest  abundance  of  aspirate  mutes. 
In  this  language  and  in  its  modern  descendants,  every  unas- 


IND  O-EUR  OPE  AN  ASP  IRA  TES.  1 69 

pirate  mute,  whether  surd  or  sonant,  has  its  corresponding 
aspirate,  made  by  pronouncing  after  it  the  sound  of  h  ;  at 
least,  such  is  the  modern  pronunciation.  Thus,  of  surd  mutes, 
along  with  kt  we  have  kh ;  with  t,  th  ;  with  p,  ph.  And  in 
like  manner  of  sonants  ;  along  with  g,  gh  ;  with  d,  dJi  ;  with 
b,  bli.  We  have  also  aspirates  for  the  so-called  "  cerebrals," 
lingual  sounds  peculiar  to  India,  and  borrowed  probably  by 
the  Sanskrit-speaking  people  from  languages  which  they  found 
in  that  peninsula — sounds  produced  by  turning  the  tip  of  the 
tongue  far  back  into  the  mouth  :  thus,  without  aspiration,  t, 
d;  with  aspiration,  th,  dJi.  Even  the  palatals  c,  j  (as  in  our 
church,  judge],  which  are  not  exclusively  mutes,  but  contain 
a  fricative  element,  have  their  corresponding  aspirates,  ch,jh. 
These  aspirates,  as  sounded  in  the  living  languages  of  India 
and  in  the  traditional  Indian  pronunciation  of  the  Sanskrit, 
have  a  compound  character  ;  they  are  made  up  of  the  unas- 
pirate  mute  with  an  //-sound  distinctly  audible  after  it.  It  is 
conceivable,  however,  that  these  letters  may  have  changed 
their  sound  in  the  course  of  ages,  and  that  the  living 
pronunciation  of  the  old  Sanskrit  may  have  been  something 
quite  different.  This,  then,  is  a  question  which  requires  to 
be  considered  :  whether  there  is  reason  for  believing  that  the 
ancient  pronunciation  of  these  letters  was  materially  different 
from  the  modern.  Now  if  they  were  not  originally  com 
pound  aspirates  of  the  kind  just  described,  they  must  in  all 
probability  have  been  simple  spirants,  like  our  /  and  v  and 
our  two  sounds  of  th  (surd  in  thin,  sonant  in  this).  In  that 
case,  the  aspirate  corresponding  to  k  wrould  have  sounded  as 
German  ch  (in  machcti)  or  as  modern  Greek  %  ;  the  aspirate 
of  g,  as  7  in  modern  Greek  Xctyo?  ;  the  aspirates  of  t  and  d,  as 
the  two  sounds  just  described  of  English  th  ;  the  aspirates  of 
/  and  b,  as  /  and  v  respectively.  It  might  be  urged  in  favor 
of  these  sounds  that,  in  the  Sanskrit  alphabet,  the  aspirate 
mutes  are  represented  by  single  letters — a  procedure  which  is 
perfectly  natural  if  they  were  in  reality  simple  sounds,  like/, 
v,  and  the  rest,  but  is  somewhat  surprising  if  they  were  com 
pounds  containing  a  distinctly  audible  h.  But  this  argument 
is  much  more  than  balanced  by  others  on  the  opposite  side. 
Thus,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  simple  spirants  which  should 


1 70  IND  0-E  UR  OPE  AN  ASPIRA  TES. 

answer  to  the  cerebrals,  /,  d  ;  to  pronounce  anything  like  our 
th  with  the  tip  of  the  tongue  bent  back  to  the  roof  of  the 
mouth  seems  almost  a  physical  impossibility.  It  would  be 
perhaps  even  more  difficult  to  imagine  any  spirants  which 
should  answer  to  the  palatals  ctj.  Besides,  if  the  letter  which 
is  now  pronounced  pit  was  anciently  pronounced  f,  we  must 
recognize  a  change  of  sound  from  /to///.  But  this  seems  a 
very  improbable  change,  and  cannot  be  supported,  so  far  as  I 
knowr,  by  any  certain  example.  And  if  it  is  hard  to  suppose 
that  such  a  change  should  have  occurred  in  one  case,  how 
much  harder  to  assume  it  for  the  whole  series  of  mutes,  surd 
and  sonant  ;  to  admit  that  v  has  passed  into  bht  and  til  (as  in 
this)  into  dli  (d-Ji)t  and  so  throughout.  We  should  have  to 
suppose,  too,  that  the  change  took  place  over  the  whole  ex 
tent  of  northern  India,  in  Bengali,  Hindui,  Marathi,  and  other 
languages,  varying  widely  from  each  other,  but  none  of  them 
preserving  any  of  the  supposed  original  spirant  mutes.  But 
there  is  another  circumstance  which  stro'ngly  supports  the  tra 
ditional  pronunciation,  by  making  it  probable  that  these  letters 
contained  an  audible  //-sound  ;  and  this  is  that  even  in  the 
Sanskrit  we  find  them  occasionally  changing  into  //.  This  is 
true  particularly  of  those  which,  as  we  shall  see  further  on, 
are  the  most  important  of  the  whole  series,  the  aspirates  of 
b,  d,  and^-.  Thus  the  common  root  han,  '  to  kill,'  shows  in 
many  of  its  derivative  forms  that  it  was  originally  gJian.  The 
word  hansa,  '  goose,'  is  proved  by  the  Greek  yi^v  and  the 
German  gans  to  have  been  originally  ghansa.  The  original 
ending  did  of  the  imperative,  2d  sing.,  which  corresponds  to 
Greek  Qi  in  crrfjdi,  IcrQi,  is  preserved  in  many  Sanskrit  verbs, 
but  in  many  others  it  becomes  ///'.  The  pronoun  mahyam, 
'  to  me,'  is  proved  by  the  analogy  of  tnbhyam,  and  also  by 
the  analogy  of  those  case-endings  which  contain  the  /V/-souncl, 
to  have  been  originally  mabhyam ;  though  in  this  instance 
the  change  to  //  might  seem  to  have  been  much  more  ancient, 
and  to  have  preceded  the  separation  of  the  languages,  since  we 
find  it  also  in  the  Latin  miJii  as  compared  with  tibi.  These 
changes  of  the  aspirate  mutes  to  //  have  been  carried  to  a 
much  greater  extent  in  the  Prakrit  dialects,  which  supplanted 
the  old  Sanskrit  in  the  mouths  of  the  people  some  centuries 


IND  0-E  UR  OPE  AN  ASPIRA  TES.  1 7 1 

before  the  Christian  era.  In  these  the  surd  aspirates,  as  kh 
and  th,  have  also  been  reduced  in  many  cases  to  a  mere  /i. 
Now  it  is  true  that  in  some  languages  a  spirant  sound — f,  for 
instance,  or  cJi — has  passed  into  h  ;  but  a  movement  of  that 
kind  so  general  as  we  have  seen  it  in  the  languages  of  India 
is  a  thing  unexampled  and  almost  incredible.  But  if  the  In 
dian  aspirates  were  what  tradition  shows  them,  compounds  of 
mutes  with  a  distinctly  audible  /i,  then  the  change  we  have 
described  is  a  perfectly  intelligible  and  natural  phenomenon. 
It  is  merely  slurring  and  sinking  one  element  in  the  phonetic 
compound.  The  h  was  perhaps  uttered  with  a  degree  of 
force  which  threw  into  the  shade,  and  at  length  totally  eclipsed, 
the  mute  sound  that  preceded  it.  We  are  brought  to  the 
conclusion,  then,  that  the  letters  in  question  could  not  have 
been  simple  spirants,  but  must  have  sounded  in  ancient,  very 
much  as  they  do  in  modern  India,  like  the  unaspirate  mutes 
followed  by  a  clearly  pronounced  Ji. 

The  argument  here  drawn  from  the  change  of  aspirate  mutes 
to  h  seems  unfavorable  to  certain  views  which  have  been  re 
cently  expressed  by  Lepsius  in  a  valuable  memoir  on  the 
sounds  of  the  Arabic  language  and  the  mode  of  representing 
them  in  occidental  characters.  Speaking  of  the  Sanskrit  as 
pirates,  he  recognizes  their  compound  character,  as  differing 
from  the  unaspirate  mutes  only  by  an  added  breathing  :  but 
this  added  breathing  he  holds  to  be  nothing  more  than  be 
longs  regularly  to  the/,  t,  k  of  the  English  and  the  German. 
He  declares,  indeed,  that  English,  French,  and  German  have 
no  tenues,  but  only  aspirates  and  mediae  ;  their  /,  /,  k  are 
not  tenues,  but  aspirates.  And  he  says  that  he  cannnot  see 
how  t,  for  instance,  can  be  more  fully  aspirated  than  it  is  in 
the  German  tail,  '  cable,'  or  than,  '  clew.'  On  the  other  hand, 
he  tells  us  that  the  Hungarians  have  true  tenues,  but  no  aspi 
rates.  The  Greek  and  Sanskrit  had  both  tenues  and  aspi 
rates  :  they  had  one/,  for  instance,  pronounced  in  the  Hunga 
rian  manner,  and  another/  in  the  English.  Now  it  is  true 
that  in  forcible  enunciation  we  speak  our/,  t,  k  with  a  sharp 
explosive  utterance  which  approaches  perhaps  to  the  charac 
ter  of  an  aspiration.  At  the  same  time,  it  seems  almost  ab 
surd  to  suppose  that  an  h  could  arise  from  these  letters,  pro- 


1/2  INDO-EUROPEAN  ASPIRATES. 

nounced  as  we  pronounce  them.  If  the  slight  trace  of  as 
piration  which  we  sometimes  give  to  these  letters  should 
become  constant,  and  then  should  be  intensified  so  as  to  bear 
a  measurable  proportion  to  the  proper  mute  sound,  the  latter 
might  in  time  fall  away  and  leave  only  the  h.  But  the  sub 
stitution  of  this  sound  for  the  original  mute  could  only  come 
about  by  some  such  process.  It  ma}*  be  considered  certain 
that,  before  the  Sanskrit  aspirates  passed  into  h,  they  had 
assumed  sounds  in  which  the  aspirate  element,  the  h,  was 
vastly  more  prominent  than  anybody  can  reasonably  suppose 
it  to  be  in  our  English  />  /,  k.  But  if  they  had  such  sounds 

o  J    "  j 

when  the  change  to  Ji  took  place,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say 
when  they  did  not  have  them.  For  some  changes  of  this 
sort  are  to  be  found  even  in  the  earliest  Sanskrit ;  and  in 
mahyam  for  mabJiyam  (Lat.  iniJii  for  inibi)  we  have  a  case 
which  perhaps  goes  back  beyond  the  formation  of  the  San 
skrit  itself. 

If  now  we  turn  to  the  ancient  Bactrian,  the  language  of  the 
Zend-Avesta,  we  find  aspirates,  both  surd  and  sonant,  as  in 
the  Sanskrit.  Their  use,  however,  seems  to  depend  in  a  great 
degree  on  euphonic  conditions,  so  that  in  kindred  roots  they 
do  not  correspond  with  regularity  to  the  aspirates  of  the  Sans 
krit,  the  Zend  often  showing  an  aspirate  mute  where  the 
Sanskrit  has  the  unaspirate,  and  vice  versa.  Whether  they 
were  pronounced  with  a  distinct  h  sound  is  a  point  which  it 
might  be  hard  to  determine  in  reference  to  an  ancient  lan 
guage  which  has  left  no  direct  descendants,  and  which  is  so 
imperfectly  represented  by  documents. 

Coming  next  to  the  Greek,  we  find  the  three  aspirate  mutes 
(/>,  6,  %.  In  the  present  pronunciation  of  the  language  these 
are  spirant  letters,  with  the  sounds  of/,  English  tJi  surd,  and 
German  ch.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  this  pronuncia 
tion  goes  back  at  least  to  the  time  of  the  later  Roman  Em 
perors.  In  many  inscriptions  of  that  period,  the  Greek  (/>  is 
represented  by  a  Romany/  which  never  was  the  case  in 
earlier  times.  The  Latin  grammarian  Priscian,  about  500 
A.D.,  tells  us. that  the  sound  then  expressed  by  /  was  origi 
nally  signified  by  p  with  an  aspiration  (that  is,  by  pJi).  This 
original  phy  he  adds,  was  retained  in  the  Latin  writing  of 


IND  O-EUR  OPE  AN  ASP  IRA  TES.  I  /  3 

Greek  words,  as  Orpheus,  but  changed  to/  in  the  writing  of 
Latin  words,  as  fama.  He  thus  implies  clearly  that  he  re 
garded  the  ///  of  Orpheus  and  the  f  of  fama  as  substantially 
identical.  In  fact,  he  says  in  another  place  that  the  lips  are 
more  firmly  fixed  in  pronouncing  ph  than  in  pronouncing  ft 
and  this  is  the  only  difference  between  /  and  ph.  Here  the 
expression  "  this  is  the  only  difference  "  seems  naturally  to  im 
ply  that  he  regards  the  difference  as  not  considerable.  Now 
the  Latin  f  was  unquestionably  a  spirant ;  and  if  the  Greek  (f> 
in  Priscian's  time  was  likewise  a  spirant,  we  can  hardly  doubt 
that  at  that  period  the  6  and  the  %  had  the  same  character, 
though  we  have  not  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  compare 
them  with  any  similar  sounds  in  the  Latin. 

But  there  is  a  variety  of  considerations  which  go  to  show 
that  these  letters  were  not  originally  sounded  as  spirants,  but 
like  the  Sanskrit  surd  aspirates,  as  compounds  of  /,  /,  k  with 
a  distinctly  audible  h.  In  the  first  place,  I  may  mention  the 
fact  that  they  are  never  doubled,  but  that  TT</>  is  used  for  (fxj), 
rO  for  66,  /e%for  ^%.  The  spirant  sounds  are  easily  doubled. 
Thus  Saf-fo  offers  perhaps  less  difficulty  in  pronunciation  than 
Sap-fo.  But  if  (/>  was  sounded  as/-//,  then  it  must  obviously 
have  been  almost  impossible  to  double  the  aspiration.  The 
organs  closing  on  the  first  /-sound  would  open  with  the 
second,  which  would  then  be  followed  by  its  aspiration  (Sap- 
p-ho)  ;  and  this  would  give  the  sound  of  7n/>,  not  of  00.  In  the 
second  place,  these  letters  have  actually  arisen  in  many  cases 
from  the  combination  of  a  smooth  mute  with  a  rough  breath 
ing.  Thus  a0'  ov,  '  from  which,'  has  arisen  out  of  air'  ov  ; 
e'(/>o£o?,  '  approach,'  has  arisen"  out  of  eVoSo?.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  whatever  that  these  were  once  sounded  ap  liou,  ep- 
liodos :  the  only  question  would  be  one  of  time — when  did 
they  change  from  ap  lion  to  af  ou,  from  cp-Jwdos  to  cfodos? 
In  the  third  place,  two  of  these  letters  were  originally  written 
as  compounds  of  a  smooth  mute  with  a  following  h — thus,  0 
as  TIH,  and  %  as  KH— a  mode  of  writing  abundantly  attested 
by  extant  inscriptions.  When  letters  are  first  used  to  write 
a  language,  they  are  used  according  to  phonetic  principles  : 
the  presumption  certainly  is  that  the  IT  and  K  and  H  had  the 
same  sound  in  these  combinations  that  they  had  elsewhere. 


1 74  IND  O-E  UR  OPE  AN  ASPIRA  TES. 

As  to  0,  the  grammarians  tell  us  that  this  also  was  once 
expressed,  like  the  other  aspirates,  by  TH.  But  this  state 
ment  is  not  borne  out  by  the  evidence  of  inscriptions,  and  is 
not  probable  in  itself.  The  truth  appears  to  be  that,  as  the 
primitive  Semitic  alphabet  had  two  signs  for  /,  one  for  the 
ordinary  lingual  and  the  other  for  an  intensive  variety  of  it, 
the  Greeks  from  their  first  adoption  of  Phoenician  characters 
employed  the  second  to  express  their  own  aspirate  /.  And  it 
was  probably  the  fact  of  their  having  already  a  simple  charac 
ter  for  this  aspirate  that  led  them  afterwards  to  invent  simple 
characters  for  the  other  two.  Should  any  one  wish  to  infer 
from  this  adoption  of  simple  characters  that  the  sounds  repre 
sented  were  likewise  simple,  we  need  only  point  to  the  double 
consonants  f  and  *fy  to  show  the  hazardousness  of  such  an 
inference.  In  the  fourth  place,  we  must  attach  some  weight  to 
the  well-attested  difference  between  the  Greek  (/>  and  the  Latin 
f.  Thus  Cicero,  it  is  said,  in  pleading  for  Fundanius,  ridi 
culed  a  Greek  witness  on  the  other  side,  because  he  could 
not  even  pronounce  the  name  (Fundanius)  of  the  accused 
party.  This  perhaps  might  not  necessarily  imply  that  there 
was  anything  more  than  a  slight  difference  between  the 
Latin  letter  and  the  Greek.  But  it  is  a  more  significant  cir 
cumstance,  that  for  centuries  the  Greek  d>  is  never  represented 
by  a  Latin//  if  the  difference  between  the  two  sounds  was  a 
slight  one,  it  is  strange  that,  with  the  constant  occasion  to  ex 
press  Greek  wrorcls  in  Roman  writing,  the  familiar/  should  not 
occasionally  be  used  for  a  sound  approaching  nearly  to  it. 
And  in  the  fifth  place,  the  preceding  argument  is  confirmed 
by  a  similar  fact  in  relation  to  the  Coptic.  The  alphabet  of 
this  language,  like  the  Roman,  has  what  is  believed  to  be  a 
spirant/.-  but  this  letter  is  never  used  in  transcribing  the 
Greek  proper  names  Philippos,  Philotera,  and  the  like.  The 
Greek  cf>  itself  is  borrowed  by  the  Coptic  for  this  purpose. 

These  arguments  in  their  collective  weight  seem  to  be  deci 
sive,  and  to  make  it  certain  that  the  Greek  aspirates  were 
once  sounded  as  the  surd  aspirates  of  the  Sanskrit.  It  is  true 
that  this  conclusion  involves  one  pretty  serious  difficulty — a 
difficulty  presented  by  the  familiar  combinations  $0  and  yQ. 
It  is  well  known  that,  before  6,  the  Greek  not  only  allows  </> 


IND  O-EUR  OPE  AN  ASPIRA  TES.  1  7  5 


and  %  to  stand  unchanged  (eypd^Oijv,  erv^^i*),  but  even 
changes  TT  and  ft  to  </),  K  and  7  to  ^  (eVe/i^^z/,  e\e-%0r}i>). 
These  combinations,  $0,  ^0,  with  the  spirant  pronunciation, 
are  natural  and  easy;  but  to  pronounce/-//'-/-/',  giving  each 
of  the  four  letters  its  proper  sound,  appears  well-nigh  impos 
sible.  It  would  seem  that  euphony  must  require  us  in 
such  cases  to  give  up  the  first  aspiration,  to  say  irQ  (p-t-/i)  in 
stead  of<f)0,  and  K0  (k-t-Ji)  instead  of  %0.  This,  in  fact,  is  the 
prescription  of  Sanskrit  euphony.  I  must  confess  my  inability 
to  offer  any  satisfactory  solution  for  this  difficulty.  We  might 
suppose  that  the  earliest  Greek  had  TT#,  K0,  and  that  these 
were  changed  by  assimilation  into  (j>0,  %0,  after  the  aspirates 
had  assumed  their  present  spirant  sounds  :  but  this  would 
carry  the  spirant  sounds  so  far  back  that  they  would  precede 
the  time  of  transcription  into  Coptic  and  Latin,  and  we  should 
be  unable  to  account  for  the  peculiarities  just  noticed  in  that 
transcription.  However  this  may  be,  it  can  scarcely  be 
doubted  that  there  was  a  time  when  the  Greek  aspirates  dif 
fered  from  the  smooth  mutes  only  by  the  addition  of  an  h- 
souncl.  They  were  thus,  as  before  remarked,  identical  in 
sound  with  the  surd  aspirates  of  the  Sanskrit.  But  it  is  a 
curious  and  important  fact  that,  in  roots  and  words  common 
to  both  languages,  it  is  almost  always  the  sonant  aspirates  of 
'the  Sanskrit,  rarely  the  surd,  that  correspond  to  the  Greek  (£, 
0,  %.  Thus  Greek  (frvco  answers  to  Sanskrit  root  bJin  ;  Greek 
cf)ep(jL>  to  Skt.  root  bhar;  Greek  Ti'0?7/u,  root  $e,  to  Skt.  root 
dJid  j  Greek  ov0ap  to  Skt.  udhar,  our  udder  y  Greek  e\a%vs, 
'small,'  to  Skt.  laghus,  Might;'  Greek  e^t?,  'serpent,'  Skt. 
ahis  for  agliis.  The  Sanskrit  roots  and  stems  which  have  surd 
aspirates,  if  they  reappear  in  Greek,  appear  there  almost  al 
ways  with  tenues  instead  of  aspirates  :  thus  Skt.  st/iri,  Greek 
crra  in  ICTT^/U,  not  a0a  ;  Skt.  prithus,  Greek  TrXaru?,  '  broad/ 
not  TrAatff?  ;  Skt.  root  splnir,  '  to  tremble,'  Greek  crTraipco, 
ao-Tralpw,  not  <r&aipw.  It  should  be  said  also  that,  among 
the  Sanskrit  roots  and  stems  which  have  these  Jetters,  there 
is  a  very  large  proportion  which  have  not  been  satisfactorily 
identified  either  in  the  Greek  or  in  other  languages  of  the 
Indo-European  family. 

Passing  on  now  to  the  Latin,  we  seem  to  lose  sight  almost 


1 76  IND  O-E  UR  OPE  AN  ASP  IRA  TES. 

completely  of  the  class  of  letters  under  discussion.  The  only 
Latin  mute  of  this  species  is  the  labial/.  It  appears  to  be 
certain  that,  from  the  time  of  our  earliest  notices,  this  letter 
was  no  compound  of  a  smooth  mute  and  rough  breathing,  but 
a  simple  spirant,  not  differing  essentially  from  our  English/". 
It  is  true  that,  from  the  expressions  of  Quintilian  and  Priscian 
in  relation  to  it,  Corsscn  has  inferred,  with  some  appearance 
of  probability,  that  it  was  pronounced  with  a  very  loose  and 
imperfect  contact  between  the  upper  teeth  and  lower  lip,  so 
as  to  have  a  particularly  rough  or  aspirate  sound.  But  this 
belongs  to  the  special  coloring  of  the  sound,  not  to  its  general 
nature,  and  is  unimportant  in  relation  to  our  present  inquiry. 
It  concerns  us  more  to  observe  how  it  corresponds  to  the 
Greek  and  Sanskrit  aspirates  in  words  which  belong  to  the 
Latin  in  common  with  those  languages.  At  the  beginning 
of  words,  the  Greek  (/>,  Sanskrit  bh,  appears  in  Latin  as  /.• 
thus  Skt.  root  b/iar,  Gr.  fyepoi,  Lat./rr^/  Skt.  bhratar,  Gr. 
(bpanjp,  Lat.  f rater.  But  a  Latin  initial/ corresponds  also  in 
a  number  of  cases  to  Gr.  9,  Skt.  dli :  thus  Gr.  @vpa,  Skt. 
dvaraui  for  dhvdram,  Lat.  fores  •  Gr.  6rfp,  Lat.  fcra.  But 
the  Greek  initial  ^,  Skt.  gh  or  /t,  is  usually  represented  by 
Latin  Ji :  thus  Gr.  ^ei/j-cov,  'winter,'  Skt.  ]iimas,  'snow,'  Lat. 
hicms.  In  the  middle  of  a  word,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
aspirates  of  the  Greek  and  Sanskrit  usually  appear  in  Latin 
as  unaspirated  sonants  ;  that  is,  as  b,  rf,  g.  Thus  Gr.  a/jLcjxo, 
'both,'  Skt.  nbJunt,  Lat.  ambo  ;  Gr.  6p0o$,  'straight,  steep,' 
Skt.  -urdhvas,  Lat.  arduns  ;  Gr.  Xer^w,  'to  lick,'  Skt.  root  lih 
for  Ugh,  Lat.  lingo.  It  is  instructive  to  look  at  the  words  for 
'  reel '  in  these  languages.  The  Greek  has  epvOpos,  the  Sanskrit 
rudhiras,  showing  a  primitive  rndh  or  pvO.  In  Latin,  the 
lingual  aspirate  passed  into  a  labial,  which  appears -either  as 
an  unaspirated  sonant,  in  rnbci\  or  as  an  aspirate  surd,  in 
rufjis. 

If  in  Latin  we  find  the  aspirate  mutes  reduced  to  a  mini 
mum  in  the  single  spirant/,  we  are  met  by  a  still  more  com 
plete  deficiency  when  we  turn  to  the  languages  of  North 
eastern  Europe,  to  those  of  the  Lctto-Slavic  class.  The /it 
self  is  wanting  in  the  Lithuanian  and  in  the  Old  Slavonic,  and 
in  both,  the  aspirates  of  the  Greek  and  Sanskrit  appear  regu- 


INDO-EUR  OPE  AN  ASPIRA  TES.  1 7  / 

larly  as  nnaspirated  sonants,  as  b,  d,  g.  Thus  Gr.  <j>vco,  Lat. 
fui,  Skt.  root  bhu,  Lith.  inf.  biiti,  'to  be,'  O.  S.  byti ;  Gr. 
(frpanjp,  L,at.  f rater,  Skt.  b/irdtar,  O.  S.  bratru,  Lith.  broils, 
brotcrelis ;  Gr.  epv6pd<s,  '  red,'  Skt.  rndJiiras,  Lith.  randimas, 
1  red,'  O.  S.  rudycti,  '  to  redden  ;  '  Gr.  0/^X97,  '  mist,  cloud,' 
Skt.  mcgha,  O.  S.  migla,  Lith.  migld. 

In  the  Celtic  languages,  we  are  struck  at  first  view  with  the 
great  abundance  of  aspirate  mutes.  For  each  of  the  three 
tenues,  /,  /,  £,  and  for  each  of  the  three  medials,  £,  ^  g,  we 
have  corresponding  aspirates,  which  in  the  Irish  are  written 
///,  t/i,  ch,  bh,  etc.  These  are  sounded,  not  as  compound 
aspirates,  but  as  simple  spirants.  The  proper  spirant  sounds 
of  the  th  and  dh,  though  corrupted  and  lost  in  the  modern 
Irish,  are  preserved  in  the  Welsh.  We  find,  however,  on  a 
little  examination,  that  the  use  of  these  aspirates  depends  on 
euphonic  conditions  and  principles  peculiar  to  the  Celtic  lan 
guages,  and  that  they  do  not  correspond,  save  rarely  and  ex 
ceptionally,  to  the  aspirates  of  the  Greek  and  Sanskrit. 
These  latter,  indeed,  are  represented  in  the  Celtic  languages 
precisely  as  they  are  in  the  Letto-Slavic,  by  b,  d,  g.  Thus, 
for  Gr.  (frva),  Skt.  root  bhu,  we  have  Ir.  bi  j  for  Greek 
(frparrjp,  Skt.  bhrdtar,  O.  Ir.  brdtkir,  '  brother ;  '  for  Gr. 
epv6po<s,  Skt.  rudhiras,  O.W.  rliud,  '  red ;  '  for  Gr.  ^et/^co^, 
Skt.  iiimaSy  O.  \r.gaim,  Q.VJ.gauam,  'winter.' 

Turning  now  in  the  last  place  to  the  Germanic  languages, 
we  find  much  the  same  state  of  things  as  in  the  Celtic.  The 
Mceso-Gothic,  the  oldest  specimen  of  this  class,  has  spirant 
mutes,  but  those  only  surd.  Thus  it  has  the  labial  f  •  it  has 
the  lingual  th  surd  (as  in  thin),  represented  by  a  single  char 
acter.  For  the  palatal  spirant  ch,  it  shows  the  simple  breath 
ing  h.  In  the  further  development  of  the  Germanic  languages, 
we  find  added  to  these  their  corresponding  sonants,  the  sounds 
of  v,  th  in  this,  and  gh.  But  even  the  aspirates  of  the 
Mceso-Gothic,  like  those  of  the  Celtic,  are  of  secondary 
origin  ;  they  do  not  connect  themselves  with  those  of  the 
Greek  and  Sanskrit.  The  Germanic  languages  stand  here  on 
the  same  footing  with  the  Celtic  and  the  Letto-Slavic.  They 
show  unaspirated  sonants,  b,  d,  g,  in  place  of  the  Greek  and 
Sanskrit  aspirates.  Thus  in  our  be  and  brother,  compared 

12 


I?8  INDO-EUROPEAN  ASPIRATES. 

with  cj)va>  and  (frparrjp  ;  in  ;Y<^,  compared  with  epvOpds  ;  and  in 
goose,  Germ,  gans,  compared  with  %??^,  %^o9  (apparently  for 


After  looking  thus  at  the  different  branches  of  our  family, 

we  are  prepared  to  take  up  the  question  whether  there  were 

aspirates  in  the  primitive  Indo-European  language.      If  they 

were  found  only  in  the  Sanskrit  and  the  Zend,  we  might  sup 

pose  that  they  had  sprung  up   in  the  Aryan  or  Indo-Persian 

branch  after  the  separation  of  the   other  branches.      But  the 

fact  that  they  appear  in  Greek,  and  that  the  same  roots  and 

words  which  have  them  in  Greek  have  them  also  in  Sanskrit, 

compels   us  to   carry   them   back  to  a  more  ancient  period, 

to  times  when  the  mother-tongue  of  Greek  and  Sanskrit  was 

yet  undivided.      Possibly,  however,  it  might  be  imagined  that 

the  languages  of  Northern  and  Western  Europe,  the  Letto- 

Slavic,    the  Germanic,    and   the    Celtic,    which   present    only 

medials  in  place  of   the  Greek  aspirates,  were  separated  from 

the  common  stock  at  a  yet  earlier  period,  while  the  ancestors 

of  the    Greeks    and    Hindus    continued    to    live    and    speak 

together  ;  and  that  it  was  then,  after  the  separation  of  those 

former  branches,  that  this  class  of  letters   began  to   develop 

itself.      But   even   this   hypothesis   will    be  found   untenable. 

For  our  Germanic  languages,  while  they  have  lost  the  primi 

tive   aspirates,   afford    yet   very    curious  indications   of  their 

primitive   existence.      If  we   take   the  Greek  words  Ovpa,  Si/o, 

and  rpels,  and  look  for  their  English  equivalents,  for  Ovpa  we 

have  door,   for  Svo,   tiuo,    for  rpels,    tlircc.      If,   prior   to   the 

separation  of  the  Germanic  languages,  the  word  door  began 

with  d,  we  ought  in  English  to  have  toor  (as  for  primitive  Bvo 

we  have  two)  ;   if  in  the  same  period  it  began  with  t,  we  ought 

in  English  to  have  tJioor  (as  for  primitive  rpet?  we  have  three). 

So  with  the  scries  Gr.  yfiv,  Eng.  goose,  Gr.  761/09,  Eng.   kin, 

Gr.    Kva)v,   Eng.    Jiound  :  if  the  ante-Germanic  goose  began 

with^-,  we  should  have  koosc  in   Eng.  (like  kiti)  ;   if  it   began 

with/',  we  should  have    hoosc  (like  hound}.     But  these  series 

are  only  examples   of  a  general   law  of  consonant  relations 

(Grimm's   Lautverschiebung).      We    see   then  that  the   Ger 

manic  languages  represent  the  aspirate  mutes  of  the  Greek  in 

a  different  manner  from  its  tenues  and  mediae  ;  from  which  it 


IND  O-EUR  OPE  AN  ASPIRA  TES.  1 79 

follows  that  the  aspirate  mutes  were  already  distinct  from  the 
tenues  and  mediae  before  the  Germanic  branch  came  to 
be  separate  from  the  parent-stock.  And  this  is  equivalent  to 
saying  that  there  existed  in  the  Indo-European  language, 
prior  to  the  separation  of  its  branches,  a  class  of  mutes  dis 
tinguished  from  the  unaspirated  surds  and  sonants,  a  class 
represented  in  later  times  by  the  surd  aspirates  of  the  Greek 
and  the  sonant  aspirates  of  the  Sanskrit. 

It  now  remains  for  us  to  ask  how  this  peculiar  class  of 
mutes  was  pronounced  in  that  primitive  language.  Had  they 
simple  spirant  sounds,  like  our/and  v  and  our  two  ///'s,  or  were 
they,  like  the  Greek  and  Sanskrit  aspirates,  compounds  of 
tenues  and  mediae  with  an  audible  //-sound  ?  That  they  must 
have  had  one  or  other  of  these  two  characters  can  hardly  be 
doubted,  when  we  see  what  sounds  have  proceeded  from  them 
in  the  linguistic  history  of  our  family.  Nor  can  there  be 
much  doubt  that  they  had  the  character  last-mentioned,  that 
they  were  in  reality  compound  aspirates.  If  the  spirant 
sounds  were  the  earliest,  it  would  be  strange  that  we  should 
not  find  them  either  in  the  Greek  or  in  the  Sanskrit,  which 
present  to  us  the  most  ancient  specimens  of  Indo-European 
speech.  And  besides,  if  the  .spirant  sounds  were  the  earliest, 
we  should  have  to  suppose  both  in  Greek  and  Sanskrit  such 
changes  as  that  from/  to/-//,  from  v  to  b-h,  etc. — a  supposition 
which  has  been  already  characterized  as  forced  and  improba 
ble. 

But  there  is  still  another  question  to  be  considered.  We 
have  seen  that  the  Greek  aspirates  were  surd,  made  up  of  a 
smooth  mute  and  rough  breathing.  Yet  we  have  seen  that 
in  corresponding  words  and  forms  they  answer  to  the  sonant 
aspirates  of  the  Sanskrit,  made  up  of  a  middle  mute  and 
rough  breathing.  Which  now  was  the  original  pronuncia 
tion  ?  Did  the  primitive  Indo-European  give  to  the  root  of  our 
verb  to  bear  the  sound  of  phar  as  in  Greek  (f>epo),  or  of  bhar 
as  in  Skt.  bhardmif  Now  the  foregoing  survey  has  shown 
us  that  in  nearly  all  the  great  branches  of  our  family  the 
primitive  aspirates  are  represented  by  sonant  letters.  Thus 
the  labial  aspirate  of  the  original  language  appears  in  San 
skrit  as  bk,  in  Zend  as  bh  or  b,  in  Letto-Slavic,  Germanic, 


1  80  IND  O-EUR  OPE  AN  ASPIRA  TES. 


Celtic,  and  partly  in  Latin,  as  b  :  only  in  Greek,  and  partly 
also  in  Latin,  does  it  appear  as  a  surd,  ph  or/.  Here,  then, 
we  find  strong  reason  for  believing  that  the  Indo-European 
aspirates  were  originally  sonant,  bh,  d/t,  gh.  And  accord 
ingly  this  opinion  has  been  generally  adopted  by  the  most 
eminent  philologists  :  by  Curtius  in  vol.  ii.  of  Kuhn's  Zeit- 
schrift(i853),  by  Boppin  the  second  edition  of  his  Comparative 
Grammar  (1856),  and  by  Schleicher  in  his  recently  published 
Compendium  of  Comparative  Grammar  (1861). 

Only  one  voice,  so  far  as  I  know,  has  been  raised  on  the 
other  side.  Kuhn,  in  a  late  number  of  his  Zeitschrift  (vol.  xi., 
1862,  p.  302  ff.)  reviewing  Schleicher's  work,  expresses  his  dis 
sent  from  the  commonly-received  view,  and  his  belief  that  the 
primitive  aspirates  were  surd,  as  in  Greek.  In  Sanskrit,  he 
thinks,  they  have  been  generally  'weakened  into  sonants, 
while  the  surd  aspirates  of  that  language  are  mostly  of  later 
origin  :  though  in  some  cases  he  holds  these  to  be  remnants 
of  primitive  usage.  His  reasons  he  only  indicates  in  a  brief 
sketch,  promising  to  exhibit  them  more  fully  at  some  future 
time.  They  are  in  part  directed  against  a  view  which  I  sus 
pect  that  no  one  entertains  :  namely,  that  the  Sanskrit  surd 
aspirates  were  not  only  produced  after  the  sonant,  but  were 
actually  developed  out  of  them  in  the  same  words  and  forms. 
This  may,  not  improbably,  have  occurred  in  some  exceptional 
and  anomalous  cases  ;  but  it  is  quite  certain  that  the  mass  of 
surd  aspirates  did  not  originate  in  this  way.  Let  us  look  then 
at  his  other  reasons,  which  may  be  reduced  to  three.  First, 
if  the  primitive  aspirates  were  sonant,  then  in  Greek  they 
must  have  changed  to  surd.  But  this  is  a  change  from  weaker 
to  stronger  sounds,  and  is  therefore  unnatural  and  improba 
ble.  There  is  doubtless  force  in  this  argument.  The  change 
from  sonant  to  surd  is  certainly  less  probable  than  a  change 
in  the  opposite  direction.  And  yet  there  are  abundant  and 
striking  examples  of  the  less  probable  mutation.  It  is  enough 
to  mention  that  in  the  Germanic  languages,  by  the  first  Laut- 
versckiebzing,  all  medials  have  passed  into  tenues  (tivo  for  Svo, 
etc.)  ;  and  that  the  modern  Armenian  pronounces  all  the 
medials  of  the  ancient  language  as  tenues,  making  up  for  this 
by  pronouncing  all  the  old  tenues  as  medials  (thus  the  ancient 


IND  0-E  UR  OPE  AN  ASPIRA  TES.  1 8 1 

Tigranes  is  the  modern  Dikraif).  Second,  whenever  new,  un 
original  aspirates  have  arisen  in  the  Indo-European  lan 
guages,  they  have  always  been  surd  aspirates,  never  sonant, 
though  sonant  aspirates  and  mediae  have  often  been  developed 
from  them  in  the  progress  of  time.  The  remark  has  refer 
ence  especially  to  the  Germanic  and  the  Celtic  languages.  Of 
the  first  I  believe  it  to  be  strictly  true  ;  but  not  altogether  so 
of -the  second.  The  sonant  aspirates  of  the  Irish  and  Welsh 
have  not  been  developed  out  of  surd  aspirates,  but  out  of 
mediae.  It  is  not  even  quite  certain,  in  case  of  the  Irish,  that 
they  are  of  later  development ;  for  though  the  earliest  monu 
ments  have  only  pk,  th,  ch,  the  aspirates  of  p,  /,  c,  yet  there 
are  not  wanting  indications  that  the  b,  d,  g  had  already  un 
dergone  a  change  analogous  to  the  aspiration  of  the  /,  /,  c. 
Still,  I  think  it  more  probable  that  in  the  Celtic,  as  in  the 
Germanic,  aspiration  began  with  tenues,  and  that  medial  as 
pirates  were  of  later  growth.  And  the  presumption  thence 
arising  of  a  similar  progress  in  early  Indo-European  times  is 
not  without  its  force.  Third,  he  says  that  if  the  surd  as 
pirates  have  arisen  from  the  sonant,  it  is  very  strange  that 
in  a  number  of  cases  the  Sanskrit  phy  th,  kh  correspond  to 
Greek  (/>,  6,  ^,  and  this  partly  in  forms  which,  like  verb-end 
ings,  go  back  to  the  beginnings  of  linguistic  formation.  Of 
Greek  and  Sanskrit  words  thus  related,  the  number  yet 
pointed  out  is  not  large,  and  in  part  of  them  there  may  be 
no  real  etymological  connection.  In  some,  we  may  suppose 
that,  by  an  exceptional  and  anomalous  change,  the  Sanskrit 
bh,  etc.,  has  passed  into  ph,  etc.  In  others,  it  may  be  that 
both  languages  have  independently  changed  the  tenuis  into  a 
surd  aspirate,  p  into  ph,  etc.  :  for  it  could  easily  be  proved 
that  such  changes  have  been  frequent  in  both  languages.  As 
regards  the  verb-endings  referred  to  by  Kuhn,  it  is  curious  to 
compare  the  Greek  and  Sanskrit  forms.  The  Sanskrit  has 
the  sonant  dh  in  several  endings  :  in  the  2d  person  sing, 
impcr.  active,  dhi  corresponding  to  Greek  61 ;  in  the  first 
person  plural  of  the  middle,  mahc,  mahi  (originally  madhe, 
mad/ii],  corresponding  to  Greek  neOa  ;  and  in  the  2d  person 
plural  middle,  dlive,  dhvain,  corresponding  to  Greek  aSe. 
Here  the  relation  of  the  aspirates  is  regular  and  constant. 


1 82  INDO-EUROPEAN  ASPIRA TES. 

But  it  is  not  so  where  the  Sanskrit  has  the  surd  th.  To  be 
sure,  thdm  in  the  2d  person  dual  of  the  middle  answers  to 
crOov  in  the  Greek,  though  for  crOov,  o-0rjv,  of  the  3d  person 
dual  the  Sanskrit  has  tarn.  So  tha  in  the  second  person 
singular  perfect  active  may  correspond  to  Gr.  6a  in  olaOa, 
fjaOa,  e<f)7]cr9a,  K\aioLcrOa.  But  for  thas  in  the  2d  person 
singular  of  the  middle  there  is  no  corresponding  aspirate 
form  in  Greek,  and  as  little  for  thas  in  the  2d  person  dual  of 
the  active,  and  for  tha  in  the  2d  person  plural  of  the  active. 
So  that  in  verb-endings  the  surd  aspirates  of  the  Sanskrit  do 
not  appear  to  stand  in  any  definite  and  satisfactory  relation 
to  those  of  the  Greek. 

But  to  my  own  mind  these  arguments,  giving  them  all  the 
weight  which  they  can  possibly  claim,  seem  insufficient  to 
balance  that  general  consent  of  the  Indo-European  languages, 
by  which,  in  all  except  the  Greek  and  partly  the  Latin,  the 
original  aspirates  are  represented  by  sonant  consonants. 
The  only  way,  as  it  seems  to  me,  to  weaken  the  overwhelm 
ing  weight  of  this  fact,  would  be  to  show  that  the  sonancy 
may  perhaps  have  arisen  from  the  aspiration  ;  that  there  is  a 
tendency  in  such  an  aspiration  to  change  a  preceding  tennis 
into  a  medial,  so  that  we  might  expect  an  original///  to  pro 
duce  a  b  rather  than  a/,  an  original  th  to  produce  a  d  rather 
than  a  t.  Now  there  are  some  facts  which  might  lend  a  color 
to  this  view.  In  the  Irish  language  there  are  certain  influ 
ences  which  change  an  original  /,  /,  c  into  phy  ///,  ch  :  aspi 
rating  influences,  we  may  therefore  call  them.  But  in  the 
kindred  Welsh,  p,  t,  c,  under  the  same  conditions,  pass  into 
b,  d,  g  •  the  aspirating  influences  have  here  changed  the 
surds  into  sonants.  That  the  influences  in  question  tend  to 
aspiration  even  in  the  Welsh  is  evident  from  the  fact  that 
they  change  an  original  Welsh  b  into  v  (  =  bh),  an  original 
d  into  dd  (=dh),  an  original  g  into  a  spirant  gh-  sound,  which 
has  disappeared  from  the  language.  A  very  curious  parallel 
to  these  phenomena  of  Celtic  euphony  is  presented  on  Ro 
manic  soil,  among  the  descendants  of  the  Latin,  in  the  dia 
lect  of  Central  Sardinia.  Here,  too,  we  find  that  the  same 
euphonic  conditions  which  aspirate  an  initial  b,  d,  g  change 
an  initial/,  /,  c  into  the  sonant  b,  d,  g.  Thus  boc,  '  ox,'  pre- 


IND  O-E  UR  OPE  AN  ASP  IRA  TES.  1 8  3 

ceded  by  the  indef.  art.  unu,  gives  unit  oe,  '  an  ox,'  the  aspi 
rated  b  disappearing  in  pronunciation;  butfloveru,  'pauper,' 
with  the  same  article,  nnu  boveru,  '  a.  pauper.'  If  these 
analogies  would  authorize  us  to  assume  that  there  is  a  pho 
netic  tendency  in  an  aspirated/,  /,  k  to  pass  into  b,  d,  g,  we 
might  suppose  with  plausibility  that  the  original  aspirates, 
which  have  produced  b,  d,  g  in  so  many  classes  of  languages, 
were  not  bht  dli,  gJi,  but///,  thy  k/i,  as  Kuhn  supposes. 

I  confess,  however,  that  these  analogies  do  not  seem  to  me 
as  yet  definite  and  extensive  enough  to  be  fully  relied  on.  In 
the  present  state  of  the  question,  I  regard  it  as  probable  that 
the  primitive  sounds  under  discussion  were  sonant  rather 
than  surd. 


X. 

ON   THE   FORMATION    OF   INDO-EUROPEAN 
FUTURES. 

1859- 

I  PROPOSE  to  occupy  a  short  time  in  describing  the  dif 
ferent  methods  used  in  different  languages  of  the  Indo- 
European  family  for  making  a  future  tense.  The  contrivances 
resorted  to  for  this  purpose  are  for  the  most  part  intelligible 
to  us  ;  and  in  their  variety  we  may  find  a  striking  illustration 
of  that  abundance  of  resources  which  the  makers  of  language 
(and  that  is  only  another  term  for  the  users  of  language)  have 
always  had  at  their  disposal.  The  facts  which  I  shall  have  to 
present  are  generally  known  ;  but  it  may  not  be  uninteresting 
or  unsuggestivc  to  sec  them  brought  together  and  exhibited 
in  one  view.  I  shall  not,  of  course,  undertake  in  this  paper 
to  give  all  the  expressions  which  arc  used  in  any  one  of  the 
languages  mentioned  to  convey  the  idea  of  futurity.  Such 
an  attempt  would  be  almost  without  limit.  We  shall  consider 
merely  those  modifications  of  the  verb  by  inflection,  compo 
sition,  or  use  of  auxiliaries,  which  are  most  constantly  and 
regularly  employed  to  refer  the  action  expressed  by  the  root 
of  the  verb  to  a  time  posterior  to  the  present  of  the  speaker. 

Let  us,  at  starting,  cast  a  glance  outside  of  our  own  class 
of  languages,  at  those  of  the  Semitic  family.  Here,  at  first 
view,  a  remarkable  prominence  appears  to  be  given  by  the 
grammatical  organism  to  the  idea  of  future  time.  For,  while 
the  system  of  verb-inflection  embraces  only  two  tenses,  one 
of  these,  and  the  one  most  extensively  used,  goes  by  the 
name  of  "  future."  But  this  first  appearance  is  hardly  borne 
out  by  a  closer  scrutiny,  directed  to  the  actual  use  of  the 
tense-forms;  for  this  so-called  future  does  service  also  as  a 
present,  and  even,  under  particular  conditions,  as  a  past  tense. 
And,  in  fact,  Ewald  in  his  Hebrew  and  Arabic  grammars  de- 


INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES.  185 

nies  it  the  name  of  a  future.  According  to  him,  the  proper 
office  of  the  two  Semitic  tenses  is  to  express,  not  past  and 
future,  but  finished  and  unfinished  action.  Thus  an  action 
thought  of  as  finished,  at  whatever  time,  past,  present,  or  fu 
ture,  is  expressed  by  the  Semitic  perfect  :  and,  in  like  man 
ner,  an  action  thought  of  as  unfinished,  or  thought  of  without 
any  idea  of  completion,  is  expressed  by  the  Semitic  future, 
to  whatever  time  it  may  belong,  whether  future,  present,  or 
past.  This  theory,  which  goes  far  to  account  for  the  seem 
ingly  irregular  and  capricious  use  of  the  tenses  in  the  Hebrew 
and  its  sister-languages,  has  found  many  adherents  :  it  ap 
pears  even  in  the  recent  editions  of  Gesenius's  Grammar,  pub 
lished  by  Rodiger.  In  the  Hebrew  Grammar  of  Dr.  Nord- 
heimer,  we  find  a  view  essentially  the  same  as  this,  but  with 
an  ingenious  and  interesting  modification  of  form,  which  in  a 
measure  reconciles  it  with  the  old  established  view.  In  this, 
the  Semitic  perfect  and  future  are  made  to  represent,  not 
strictly  past  and  future  time,  but  prior  and  posterior  action — 
action  prior  and  posterior  to  some  assumed  stand-point  or 
dividing  position — this  assumed  stand-point,  or  dividing  posi 
tion  between  prior  and  posterior,  being  often  coincident  with 
the  immediate  present  time,  or  instant  of  speaking,  but  very 
often  £ilso  some  different  epoch  suggested  in  the  context. 
The  main  peculiarities  in  the  Semitic  tense-system,  according 
to  his  view  of  it,  would  be  :  first,  the  freedom  with  which 
this  dividing-point  is  allowed  to  shift  its  place,  and  to  take  up 
any  required  position  ;  and,  second,  the  fact  that  every  action 
is  thought  of  as  preceding  or  following,  never  as  contempo 
raneous  with,  the  moment  of  time  thus  fixed  upon.  It  is  not 
my  purpose,  however,  to  enter  upon  any  discussion  with  re 
ference  to  these  points  of  Semitic  grammar,  but  only  to  draw 
attention  to  the  fact— which  is  equally  true,  whatever  theory  we 
may  adopt  in  accounting  for  it — that  the  present  and  future  of 
our  Indo-European  languages  are  to  a  great  extent  confound 
ed,  that  is,  represented  without  distinction  of  form,  in  Semi 
tic  expression.  And  I  do  it  with  the  purpose  of  adding  that 
the  same  confusion,  the  same  want  of  formal  distinction  be 
tween  present  and  future,  is  to  be  found  also  within  the  do 
main  of  Indo-European  speech  ;  and  that;  too,  at  a  point  very 


1 86  IND  0-E  UR  OPE  AN  F  UTURES. 

near  home  to  every  one  of  us.  If  we  look  at  our  own  mother- 
tongue,  or,  more  properly,  the  mother  of  our  mother-tongue, 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  we  shall  find  a  corresponding  deficiency.  As 
in  Hebrew,  so  in  Anglo-Saxon,  the  same  form  of  the  verb  is 
regularly  and  ordinarily  employed  both  as  a  present  and  as  a  fu 
ture.  The  words  which  appear  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  New  Testa 
ment  as  aversion  of  John  xvi.  2,  might  be  rendered  into  mod 
ern  English,  either  "  They  will  put  you  out  of  the  synagogues, 
and  the  time  will  come,  that  whosoever  shall  slay  you,  will 
think  that  he  doeth  God  service,"  or,  if  we  look  only  at  the 
forms  of  expression,  without  reference  to  the  actual  circum 
stances  of  the  case,  "  They  put  you  out  of  the  synagogues, 
and  the  time  cometh,  that  whosoever  slaycth  you,  thinketh 
that  he  cloeth  God  service."  Nor  is  the  Mceso-Gothic,  the 
most  ancient  and  most  perfect  representative  of  the  Germanic 
class  of  languages,  better  off  in  this  particular  than  the 
Anglo-Saxon.  If  we  turn  to  the  translation  of  the'  Bible 
made  by  Bishop  Ulfilas  in  the  fourth  century  for  his  Mceso- 
Gothic  countrymen,  we  shall  find  that  the  inflected  forms  of 
the  verb  which  arc  used  for  the  present,  and  which  are  shown 
by  a  comparison  of  other  Indo-European  languages  to  belong 
properly  to  that  tense,  are  also  in  constant  use  for  the  expres 
sion  of  the  future.  The  same  thing  is  true  likewise  of  the  old 
Norse  ;  and  it  appears,  indeed,  that  this  want  of  a  special 
form  for  the  future  in  distinction  from  the  present  belongs  to 
the  Germanic  languages  generally,  in  all  the  earliest  forms 
with  which  we  are  acquainted.  Perhaps  it  was  even  charac 
teristic  of  primitive  Germanism.  By  this  I  do  not  mean  that 
the  common  Indo-European  stock  had  not  developed  a  dis 
tinct  form  for  the  future  at  the  time  when  the  progenitors  of 
the  Germanic  people  began  to  have  a  separate  subsistence 
and  dwelling-place.  I  mean,  rather,  that  a  distinct  form  for 
this  tense — supposing  it  to  have  been,  as  I  believe  it  was,  al 
ready  in  existence — may  perhaps  have  been  lost  by  the  primi 
tive  Germans  at  a  very  remote  period,  and  thus  the  confusion 
of  present  and  future  may  have  been  among  the  earliest  of 
those  deviations  from  the  common  type  which  at  length  im 
pressed  a  peculiar  character  on  the  Germanic  idioms.  The 
modern  languages  of  this  class  have  endeavored  to  supply  the 


INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES.  1 87 

want  of  a  future  by  the  use  of  auxiliaries  :  of  these  attempts 
we  shall  speak  further  on.  We  observe  now,  that  a  similar 
deficiency  exists  in  one  of  the  Celtic  languages,  the  Welsh  ; 
and  not  only  so  in  the  older  forms  of  that  language,  as  the 
laws  of  Hywel  Dda  (Howel  the  Good),  which  belong  to  the 
ninth  century,  but  also  in  the  current  idiom  of  the  present 
day.  In  one  verb  only  do  we  find  a  distinction  made  between 
the  present  and  the  future — in  the  verb  '  to  be.'  Sum,  es, 
esty  etc.,  are  expressed  by  tvyvy  wyt,  ywy  or ydwyv,  ydwyt, 
ydyw :  but  ero,  cris,  crit  are  expressed  by  byddaf,  byddit, 
bydd,  etc.  The  root  bydd,  'employed  for  the  future,  is  only 
a  modified  form  of  bu,  which  is  also  found  in  Welsh,  and,  like 
our  English  be,  is  identical  in  origin  with  Sanskrit  bhu,  Greek 
<£u-w,  and  Latin/?/-/.  The  added  aspirate  of  bydd  is  perhaps 
to  be  compared  with  the  Greek  6  in  forms  such  as  7r6\d9-a>  = 
TreXa-o),  '  to  draw  near/  /uw0-&)  =  Lat.  minu-o,  '  to  diminish/ 
and  many  others.  This  formative  9  is  now  generally  identi 
fied  with  the  root  dhd,  Gr.  6e  in  T/^/U,  Eng.  do.  Germ.  thnn. 
If  the  dental  in  bydd  is  to  be  explained  in  this  way,  we  should 
have  for  the  primary  meaning  of  byddaf  '  I  do  be/  '  I  do  or 
make  the  being/  a  present  form  of  expression,  which,  how 
ever,  as  it  implies  that  the  being  is  not  already  done,  that  the 
existence  of  something  is  not  already  brought  to  pass,  may 
naturally  enough  be  employed  as  a  future.  The  Welsh  forms 
of  the  verb  '  to  be '  are  much  used  in  periphrastic  expressions 
for  continued  action,  which  are  even  more  prominent  in 
Welsh  than  in  English  ;  and  in  these,  of  course,  it  is  able  to 
discriminate  the  future  from  the  present  :  '  he  will  be  loving  ' 
is  expressed  by  bydd  yn  cant,  '  he  is  loving  '  by yw yn  earn: 
though  '  he  loves  '  and  '  he  will  love  '  are  both  expressed  by  one 
and  the  same  form,  car.  Wre  cannot,  however,  suppose  in  this 
case — what  we  saw  to  be  at  least  not  improbable  for  the  Ger 
manic  idioms — that  the  want  of  a  special  future  form  was  an 
original  and  distinctive  feature  in  the  class  of  languages,  the 
Celtic,  of  which  the  Welsh  is  a  member.  For  in  the  Irish,  the 
Gaelic  of  Ireland,  which  in  many  respects  has  preserved  the 
primitive  characteristics  of  Celtic  speech  better  than  the  Welsh, 
we  find  a  regular  formation  for  the  future,  one  which  goes  back 
evidently  to  the  earliest  periods  of  the  language,  and  bears  a 


1 88  INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES. 

remarkable  analogy  to  the  Latin  future  in  bo.  Thus  from  the 
root  mol  (infinitive  molain,  'to  praise  ')  come  the  present,  mo- 
laim,  molais,  molaidh,  l  laudo,  landas,  landat ;'  and  the  future, 
mo  If  ad  (with  f),  violfair,  molfaidh,  '  laudabo,  laudabis,  lau- 
dabit :  '  while  the  Welsh  has  molaf,  molit>  uiaivl,  for  both 
tenses.  And  yet  the  Welsh  has  a  single  femnant  which 
shows  that  it  anciently  participated  in  the  Irish  formation  of 
the  future.  Forms  like  moliff  (with  final  f)  are  occasionally 
met  with,  in  the  third  person  singular  only,  and  always  in  a 
future  sense. 

But  while  the  Germanic  idioms*,  as  a  class,  with  on£  branch 
of  the  Celtic,  resemble  the  Semitic  tongues  in  confounding 
future  and  present,  the  great  body  of  the  Indo-European 
languages  have  distinct  forms  for  the  expression  of  the  fu 
ture.  In  examining  these  forms,  which  present  considera 
ble  variety,  we  notice  first  the  fact  that  some  of  them  have 
been  derived  from  a  subjunctive  or  potential.  The  future  is 
uncertain  ;  it  is  dependent  on  conditions,  either  now  exist 
ing  or  to  arise  hereafter.  We  need  not  be  surprised,  there 
fore,  to  see  it  expressed  under  the  form  of  contingency — ex 
pressed  as  that  which  'may  or  might  be.'  A  rudiment  of 
this  practice  is  seen  in  the  Greek  language,  where  the  sub 
junctive,  especially  the  aorist  subjunctive,  with  or  without  the 
contingent  particle  av  or  K£V,  is  sometimes  found  in  cases 
where  we  should  expect  a  future  indicative.  Thus  in  the  first 
book  of  the  Iliad,  Nestor,  speaking  of  the  heroes  of  an  earlier 
time,  says  :  ov  yap  TTCO  -rolovs  'tSov  dvepa?  ou8e  o)<w/m£,  '  for  never 
yet  saw  I  such  men,  nor  (may  I  sec,  am  I  likely  to  sec,  i.e.] 
shall  I  see  hereafter.'  This  usage,  however,  is  nearly  con 
fined  to  the  Epic  poetry.  But  that  which  we  see  in  Greek 
occurring  in  this  occasional  and  irregular  way  is  matter  of 
regular  formation  in  Latin.  It  is  a  fact  now  generally  recog 
nized,  that  the  future  indicative  of  the  third  and  fourth  con 
jugations,  and,  of  course,  the  future  indicative  of  nearly  all 
primitive  verbs,  was  originally  a  subjunctive — that  it  corres 
ponds  to  the  potential  in  Sanskrit  and  the  optative  in  Greek. 
The  characteristic  of  this  mode  in  Sanskrit  is  yd  or  i :  in  Greek 
it  is  iri  or  i  (Solrjv,  Solpev).  In  Latin  it  was  the  same  as  in  Greek, 
ic  or  i.  These  two  forms  are  seen  in  the  Old  Latin  siciii,  and 


INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES.  1 89 

its  later  equivalent  sim*  The  vowel  i,  used  as  mode-sign  of 
the  subjunctive,  is  seen  also  in  velim,  nolim,  malim,  duim 
—  dein,  and  perhaps  one  or  two  other  old  forms.  It  is  implied 
likewise  in  the  present  subjunctive  of  the  first  conjugation, 
as  amcmus,  laudenms,  if  these  forms  are  really,  what  they  are 
generally  regarded  as  being,  contracts  made  from  amaimus, 
laudaimus.  This  is  the  contraction  which  has  occurred  in 
the  future  indicative  of  the  third  and  fourth  conjugations,  and 
has  made  legemits,  luenms,  out  of  legaimus  and  luaimus — 
forms  which  correspond  perfectly  to  the  Greek  optatives 
/,-  Xvoipev  (or  more  closely  to  the  Doric  forms,  \eyoipes, 
It  is  probable,  too,  that  in  the  future  of  the  verb 
sum,  in  eris,  erity  erimus,  the  i  is  in  fact  this  same  sign  of  the 
contingent  mode,  attached  to  the  syllable  cr,  originally  es,  the 
stem  of  the  verb.  Now  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  Armenian 
language,  which  belongs  to  the  Iranian  branch  of  the  Indo- 
European  family,  and  is  therefore  quite  remote  from  the  Latin, 
forms  its  future  tense  in  a  manner  closely  analogous  to  that 
just  described.  The  Armenian  future  has  for  its  characteristic 
a  letter  which  is  pronounced  as  ts  :  thus,  from  the  stem  da,  '  to 
give,'  comes  dats,  'I  shall  give/  daises,  '.thou  wilt  give,' 
datse,  '  he  will  give,'  etc.  At  first  view,  we  should  think  of 
this  Armenian  ts  as  connected  with  the  Greek  a  of  the  fu 
ture,  and  should  compare  dats,  datses,  datse  with  Scoaa),  S&aeis, 
Secret.  But  Bopp,  in  the  second  edition  of  his  Comparative 
Grammar,  has  shown  that  the  ts  which  plays  an  important 
part  in  the  Armenian  system  of  inflection  has  arisen  every 
where  from  an  original  Indo-European  y  consonant,  by  a 
phonetic  change,  an  assibilation,  analogous  to  that  which  ap 
pears  in  English  joke  from  Latin  jocns,  English  June  from 
Latin  Junius.  Thus  dats,  datses,  datse  correspond,  not  to 
3a><7o>,  t>cocret9,  Soxret,  but  to  Soiijv,  80/779,  Sot?;,  Sanskrit 
deydsam,  deyds,  dcydt  ;  that  is,  they  are  potential  or  optative 
forms,  employed  for  the  expression  of  the  future. 

We  have  just  alluded  to  the  common  Greek  future  in  <r,  as 
seen  in  §a>o-o>,  Swo-et?,  Soocret.  Identical  with  this  is  the  ordinary 
future  of  the  Sanskrit:  thus,  from  the  stem  dd,  'to  give,'  we 
have  in  the  future  ddsydmi,  ddsyasi,  ddsyati.  In  these  forms, 
comparative  philology  has  long  recognized  the  character  of 


190  INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES. 

compound  words,  made  by  attaching  to  the  stem  da  a  future 
of  the  verb  '  to  be.'  It  is  true  that,  in  Sanskrit,  the  root  as  of 
the  substantive  verb  (Greek  and  Latin  e?,  Germanic  is)  has  no 
future  existing  as  a  separate  form.  It  has  a  potential  sydm, 
syas,  syat,  for  asyaui,  etc.,  made  by  annexing  the  potential 
characteristic^?/  to  the  radical  as,  which  then  loses  its  initial 
a,  as  in  the  corresponding  Old  Latin  sic  in.  Now  in  the  ordi 
nary  Sanskrit  future,  we  find  the  stem  of  the  verb,  whatever 
it  may  be,  followed  by  the  forms  sydmi,  syasi,  syati,  which 
very  closely  resemble  the  pgtential  forms  just  given,  differing 
from  them  scarcely  at  all,  except  in  having  the  full  personal 
endings  ;///,  si,  ti,  instead  of  the  shortened  ;//,  s,  t.  It  is 
therefore  natural  to  suppose  that  this  sydmi,  etc.,  was  in  its 
origin  identical  with  syaui  /  that  it  once  existed  as  a  separate 
word,  having  at  the  outset  a  potential  meaning  ('  may  be, 
might  be'),  but  afterwards  employed  as  a  future  ('  shall  be, 
will  be  '),  by  a  transition  the  same  as  that  just  pointed  out  in 
Latin  futures  of  the  third  conjugation  ;  and  that  in  this  use  it 
was  compounded  with  other  verb-stems  to  give  them  a  future 
meaning,  and  was  thus  retained  in  composition  long  after  it 
had  ceased  to  exist  in  a  separate  state.  The  compound  future 
made  in  this  way  is  seen  not  only  in  the  Zend  and  the  Greek, 
but  also  in  the  Lithuanian,  where  we  find,  for  example,  dnsn, 
'  I  shall  give,'  dusi,  '  them  wilt  give,'  dns,  'he  will  give.'  It 
will  be  observed  that  the  proper  future  element  in  this  forma 
tion  is  not  the  letter  s,  but  the  potential  ya  which  follows  it, 
and  is  very  distinctly  preserved  in  the  Sanskrit  syiimi,  etc., 
while  in  the  common  Greek  aco,  era?,  crei  it  is  nearly  obliterated. 
But  in  the  Doric  Greek,  the  endings  of  the  future  are  crico 
or  erect),  creet?,  creet,  which  correspond  well,  according  to  the 
phonetic  relations  of  the  two  languages,  to  the  Sanskrit  end 
ings.  The  Greek,  on  the  other  hand,  has  this  superiority, 
that  it  has  retained  the  future  of  the  stem  as  or  e?  in  a  sepa 
rate  form  eao/uai,  Epic  eVcroO/iicu,  from  ecrcreoyu-at  or  ecrcricftat, 
though  with  middle  endings,  instead  of  active.  The  Sanskrit 
sometimes  appends  its  future  terminations  directly  to  the 
stem,  but  more  generally  inserts  a  short  i  as  a  connecting 
vowel.  In  Greek  this  relation  is  reversed  :  occasionally  we 
find  the  connective,  as  in  jj.a^6crofiai ,  from  /xa^o/tat,  '  to  fight/ 


IND  O-E  UR  OPE  AN  F  UTURES.  1 9 1 

but  in  general  the  ending  is  applied  immediately  to  the  stem. 
In  one  case,  however,  the  Greek  almost  invariably  employs 
a  connecting  e — in  the  case  of  liquid  verbs  ;  though  here  the 
<r,  standing  between  two  vowels,  has  fallen  away,  as  it  does 
so  often  in  the  Greek  language.  Thus  from  /*e'z/r/>,  '  to  re 
main,'  we  have  future  IJLGVGCTM  instead  of  jjievaw — from  which 
comes  jjLeveco,  contracted  fjievw,  the  usual  form. 

If  now  we  return  to  the  Latin,  we  shall  find  that  the  forma 
tion  just  described,  by  which  the  future  of  the  root  as  or  es 
appears  as  the  final  element  in  a  compound  verb  form,  is  by 
no  means  unknown  to  that  language.  It  does  not  appear, 
indeed,  in  the  first  future  ;  but  in  the  future  perfect  it  is  the 
established  method  of  formation.  Lcgcro,  dixcro,  docncro,  are 
nothing  but  the  future  of  sum  annexed  to  the  stem  of  the  per 
fect  active  :  they  mean  '  I  shall  be  in  the  state  of  having  read, 
having  said,  having  taught.'  Thus  Icgcro  in  the  active  corres 
ponds  closely  to  Icctus  cro  in  the  passive,  the  difference  being 
that  Icgcro  is  a  true  and  proper  compound,  while  in  Icctus  cro 
the  elements  retain  their  separate  form  and  construction. 

We  have  not  yet  spoken  of  the  Latin  future  in  bo,  which 
appears  regularly  in  the  first  and  second  conjugations,  and 
sometimes  in  the  fourth — amabo,  docebo,  audibo.  This  end 
ing,  too,  like  the  one  which  we  have  been  considering,  con 
tains  the  verb  'to  be.'  It  is  not,  however,  derived  like  that 
from  the  root  as,  but  from  another  root  no  less  widely  diffused 
through  the  Indo-European  languages — Sanskrit  b/iu,  Greek 
<pv  (<£uft>),  Latin  ///  (fui,  f°)'c}>  Germanic  and  Celtic  bi,  be. 
It  is  true  that  the  future  ending  bo  shows  the  medial  b,  while 
the  separate  fui,  fore,  etc.  in  Latin  have  the  aspirate/"/  but 
this  circumstance  involves  no  real  difficulty.  The  primitive 
sound  was  a  medial  aspirate,  bh,  as  we  find  it  in  the  Sanskrit. 
In  Latin,  this  bh  either  gives  up  its  h  and  is  reduced  to  the 
medial  b,  or  it  fuses  b  and  h  in  the  homogeneous  aspirate/: 
in  general,  /  is  used  for  'bh  when  it  stands  at  the  beginning  of 
a  word,  and  b  when  it  stands  in  the  middle.  Thus  the  root 
bhar,  '  to  bear,'  gives  fcro  as  a  separate  verb,  but  appears  also 
in  the  ending  -bruin  of  candelabrum,  '  candle-bearer,'  cere 
brum,  'brain,'  lit.  'borne  in  the  head'  —  a  case  which  is 
entirely  parallel  to  the  one  in  hand.  It  is  matter  of  doubt 


192  INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES. 

whether  bo,  bis^M't  ought  to  be  regarded  as  present  forms  of 
the  root  bhu  used  in  the  sense  of  futures,  like  what  we  have 
seen  before  in  the  Welsh  inolaf,  etc.,  or  whether  they  are 
futures  in  form  as  well  as  in  meaning— 7-th at  is,  whether  they 
are  not,  like  the  Sanskrit  syami,  etc.,  potential  forms  applied 
to  designate  futurity.  In  the  latter  case,  bo,  bis,  bit  might  be 
looked  upon  as  contractions  of  bio,  bits,  biit,  and  this  appears 
to  be  the  most  probable  explanation. 

Closely  analogous  to  this  Latin  future  in  bo,  and  resting' 
upon  the  same  root,  is  the  regular  future  formation  of  the 
Irish,  which  we  have  had  occasion  to  notice  already.  Here  we 
find  the  endings  fad,  fair,  faidJi,  famaoid,  faidh,  faid  j  in 
which  the  derivation  from  the  root  bha  may  be  regarded  as 
unquestionable.  The  endings  in  the  ancient  Irish,  as  given  by 
Zeuss  (Gramm.  Celt.),  arc  still  more  evidently  connected  with 
the  Latin  forms  ;  thus  nb  (from  bit),  Lat.  bo  j  fc  (from  y?),  Lat. 
bis  j  bid,  fid,  Lat.  bit;  bcm,  fam,  fcm,  Lat.  [limits;  bid,  fid, 
Lat.  bit  is  ;  fct  (for /<-;//),  Lat.  /;;////.  That  this  formation  was 
not  peculiar  to  the  Irish,  but  belonged  originally  to  all  the 
Celtic  idioms,  is  proved  by  the  fact  likewise  noticed  before, 
that  a  remnant  of  the  same  formation  in  the  third  person 
singular  is  still  found  occurring  occasionally  in  the  Welsh. 

These  Latin  and  Celtic  futures  have  been  further  illustrated 
by  Bopp  from  the  Slavonic  languages.  In  these  the  ordinary 
future  is  made  by  combining  a  participle  of  the  verb  with  the 
future  of  the  root  /;;/,  '  to  be.'  Here,  however,  the  two  ele- 
'  ments  remain  distinct,  and  do  not  coalesce  into  a  single  com 
pound  word,  as  in  the  Irish  and  Latin.  Thus  in  the  Car- 
niolan  we  find  bom  igral,  igrala,  igralo,  '  I  will  be  playing, 
he,  she,  or  it  that  plays.'  The  future  of  the  root  'to  be,' 
which  occurs  in  these  combinations,  has  a  singular  resem 
blance  to  the  Welsh  future  bydd,  which  we  have  considered 
already.  In  the  Old  Slavonic  it  is  bndn,  which  contains,  if 
Bopp  is  right,  the  radical  of  German  thun  and  English  do,  so 
that  it  would  signify  'I  do  be,'  'I  do  or  make  the  being.' 
The  Servian  language  stands  distinguished  from  all  its  sister 
idioms  of  the  Slavonic  class  by  the  fact  that  it  does  not 
confine  this  method  to  the  substantive  verb,  but  employs 
it  as  a  general  mode  for  the  formation  of  a  future  :  thus, 


INDO-EUROPEAN 

in  the  Servian,  igra-dyit,  ('  I  make  a  play 
play.' 

The  compound  forms  which  we  have  thus  far  described 
contain  a  future  made  from  some  root  signifying  'to  be,' 
which  future  is  combined  in  one  way  or  another  with  the  dif 
ferent  verbs  of  the  language.  We  might  represent  them  all 
loosely  by  such  English  expressions  as  '  he  will  be  praising, 
he  will  be  giving,'  etc.  But  there  is  another  method  of  pro 
ceeding,  in  which  the  present  of  the  substantive  verb  is  used, 
and  which  may  be  represented  therefore  by  the  English  '  I 
am  about  to  praise,  I  am  about  to  give,'  etc.  Such  are  the 
Latin  daturus  sum,  laudaturus  sum.  And  such  is  a  form  of 
the  future  which  appears  in  Sanskrit,  though  much  less  fre 
quently  than  the  one  already  analyzed.  Thus  the  stem  da, 
'  to  give,'  makes  two  futures  :  one  ddsydmi,  dasyasi,  dasyati, 
etc.,  corresponding,  as  we  have  seen,  to  the  Greek  Scoo-co, 
&«cret?,  Secret ;  the  other  datdsmi,  ddtdsi,  data,  which  an 
swers  to  the  Latin  daturus  sum,  es,  est.  What  is  remarkable 
in  these  Sanskrit  forms  is  that  data,  except  in  this  formation, 
has  nothing  future  in  its  meaning  ;  it  is  a  common  nomen 
agcntis,  and  corresponds  both  in  form  and  sense  to  the  Latin 
dator,  'giver.'  Indeed,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  the 
Latin  daturus  is  in  its  origin  only  another  form  of  dator,  and 
that  the  idea  of  futurity  was  attached  to  it  by  a  sort  of  con 
vention,  as  to  the  Sanskrit  data.  In  the  third  person,  singu 
lar,  dual,  and  plural,  of  this  Sanskrit  future,  the  verb  sub 
stantive  is  omitted,  and  we  have  only  the  singular,  dual,  and 
plural  of  this  nomen  agoutis,  so  that  in  the  dual,  for  instance, 
we  have  only  the  expression  '  two  givers  '  to  signify  '  they 
two  will  give.'  It  is  also  curious  to  observe  that,  although 
data  varies  thus  in  the  third  person  of  the  different  numbers, 
where  it  stands  by  itself,  yet  in  the  first  and  second  persons, 
where  it  is  followed  by  the  auxiliary,  the  form  data,  which 
is  the  nominative  singular,  is  used  also  for  the  other  num 
bers.  It  is  as  though  in  Latin  we  should  say,  not  daturi 
sumus,  but  daturus  sumus.  This  shows  that  the  Sanskrit  ex 
pression  is  not  to  be  regarded,  like  the  Latin,  as  a  mere  col 
location  of  the  substantive  verb  and  the  future  participle ; 
but  that  there  is  a  real  fusion,  a  quasi-composition  in  the  case. 
13 


194  INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES. 

Thus  far  it  is  the  verb  i  to  be'  which  has  figured  in  all  the 
futures,  whether  made  by  composition  or  by  the  use  of  sepa 
rate  auxiliaries,  that  have  come  under  our  notice.  But  other 
verbs  may  be  laid  hold  of  by  the  language-making  spirit,  and 
compelled  to.  perform  a  similar  service.  Among  these  is  the 
verb  'to  have.'  The  old  Slavonic  translation  of  the  Evange 
lists  frequently  us«s  the  present  of  imam,  '  to  have,'  in  con 
nection  with  an  infinitive,  to  form  a  future  tense  :  thus,  priiti 
imaty  syn  ==  '  vcniet  filius  '  (lit.  '  the  son  has  to  come').  The 
idiom  of  our  own  language  makes  it  easy  for  us  to  feel  the 
force  of  this  periphrasis,  which,  as  we  use  it,  always  looks  for- 
^ward  to  the  future,  though  combining  with  the  proper  idea  of 
tense  the  modal  notion  of  obligation  or  necessity.  A  similar 
periphrasis  is  occasionally  found  even  in  the  Mceso-Gothic 
of  Ulfilas.  But  it  is  in  the  Romance  languages  that  this 
mode  of  <(  futurizing"  (if  we  may  so  call  it)  has  shown  itself  on 
the  largest  scale  and  with  the  greatest  constancy.  The 
Italian,  French,  and  Spanish  future  is  nothing  but  a  combi 
nation  of  the  infinitive  with  the  present  forms  of  the  verb 
haberc,  '  to  have.'  Thus  loner  ai,  loucras,  loucra,  loneront,  are 
nothing  but  loner  (  —  landarc]  -f  ai,  as,  a,  out,  the  present 
forms  of  the  verb  avoir.  The  origin  of  these  forms,  if  any 
doubt  could  be  entertained  in  regard  to  it,  is  clearlv  demon- 

o  J 

strated  by  the  usage  of  the  Provei^al,  in  which  there  is  often  a 
tmesis,  or  separation  of  the  two  elements,  as  in  dar  vos  rial 
(^jc  i1  cms  en  donncrai'},  dir  vos  ai  ('  dicer c  vobis  Jiabco,'  '  I  have 
to  say  to  you,'  '  jc  Tons  dirai'}.  The  universality  of  this  for 
mation  in  the  Romanic  languages  is  a  fine  illustration  of  the 
reality  and  power  of  a  spracligeist,  a  mental  attitude  and 
tendency  common  to  all  the  speakers  of  a  language,  however 
remote  in  place  and  disconnected  in  social  relations,  which 
leads  them  to  develop  simultaneously  and  independently 
similar  modifications  and  new  creations  in  their  language. 
No  idea  can  be  entertained,  in  this  case,  of  a  fashion  spring 
ing  up  in  a  particular  locality,  and  propagated  thence  by  in 
tercourse  and  imitation.  The  Spanish  future  could  not  have 
been  borrowed  from  the  Italian,  nor  the  Italian  from  the 
Spanish.  The  phenomenon  is  a  natural,  not  an  artificial  one. 
The  Italian,  French,  and  Spanish  have  alike  grown  out  of  a 


INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES.  195 

mixture  of  Germanism  with  a  degenerate  Latinism,  and  it 
lies  in  the  nature  of  the  ingredients  that,  when  thrown  to 
gether,  they  should  precipitate  among  other  things  a  future 
such  as  this. 

It  is  a  little  singular,  however,  that  the  Germanic  languages 
themselves,  in  their  separate  and  independent  development, 
have  not  shown  the  same  uniformity  as  to  the  creation  of  the 
future  tense  which  we  have  just  seen  in  their  influence  upon 
the  corrupt  Latin,  which  they  altered  and  adopted  in  the 
south  of  Europe.  And  yet,  even  here,  the  uniformity  is  too 
great  to  be  the  result  of  accident.  In  seeking  to  supply  that 
ancient  deficiency  of  special  future  forms  which  we  have  be 
fore  described,  not  one  of  these  languages  has  adopted  a  com 
pound  inflexional  form,  like  the  Greek  and  Sanskrit  future  ; 
not  one  has  combined  the  verb"'  to  be  '  with  a  participle  or  a 
periphrastic  form,  like  the  future  in  nearly  all  the  Slavonic 
languages  ;  not  one  has  connected  the  verb  '  to  have  '  with  the 
infinitive,  like  the  future  of  the  Romance  languages.  The 
Germanic  languages  have  taken  up  the  verbs  of  volition  and 
necessity,  and  made  their  futures  by  the  help  of  these  auxili 
aries.  In  low  Dutch,  it  is  the  verb  of  necessity  alone,  the 
shall,  which  is  thus  used  to  form  the  future.  In  Danish  and 
Swedish,  both  verbs  are  thus  employed.  And  this  is  the  case 
in  our  classical  English,  which  uses  them  not  indiscriminately, 
but  according  to  a  somewhat  subtle  and  refined  distinction. 
In  the  English  of  Scotland  and  Ireland,  and  a  large  part  of 
the  United  States,  it  is  the  verb  of  volition  alone,  the  will, 
that  discharges  this  office,  the  shall  being  never  used  except 
with  its  primitive  and  proper  notion  of  necessity.  It  is  a 
curious  fact  that  the  modern  Greek  has  adopted  a  similar  for 
mation  of  the  future,  ^eXe*,  va  ypd(j)rj  or  $eXet  va  ypd-^y, 
corresponding  exactly  to  the  he  zuill  write  of  our  own 
language. 

Th'ere  is,  however,  one  of  the  Germanic  idioms  which  has 
departed  from  the  general  analogy,  and  adopted  a  wholly  differ 
ent  auxiliary.  I  refer  to  the  modern  German,  and  its  use  of 
the  verb  ivcrdcny  '  to  become,'  to  express  the  future.  What 
makes  this  peculiarity  the  more  striking  is  the  fact  that  the 
Althochdeutschy  though  standing  to  a  great  extent  in  the  posi- 


I96  INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES. 

tion  of  the  Mceso-Gothic  and  the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  using  its 
present  as  a  future,  had  begun  to  introduce  the  verbs  of  will 
ing  and  shalling  to  their  auxiliary  function,  like  the  other 
languages  of  the  same  class.  So  that  the  HocJidcntsch  lan 
guage  has  actually  thrown  aside  the  general  expedients  of 
its  class,  after  it  had,  in  part  at  least,  adopted  them.  Bopp 
congratulates  his  countrymen  on  this  difference,  as  having 
made  a  more  felicitous  choice  than  the  rest  of  their  family. 
Wcrdcn  is  certainly  not  ill-adapted  to  the  expression  of  the 
future  ;  though  its  use  as  an  auxiliary  interferes  somewhat 
injuriously  with  its  use  as  a  separate  verb.  Yet  the  reason 
chiefly  urged  by  Bopp  is  a  damaging  one  for  his  own  argu 
ment.  "  That  which  is  now  becoming,"  he  says,  "  certainly 
will  be  in  the  future."  But,  in  the  first  place,  this  is  not 
true  ;  for  the  present  evolution  may  be  arrested.  And  next, 
if  it  were  true,  the  same  thing  might  be  said,  with  even 
greater  force,  of  the  shall,  the  verb  of  necessity. 

It  remains  only  to  add  a  word  in  reference  to  the  historical 
question,  whether  any  of  these  formations  can  be  referred  to 
the  primitive  period  of  Indo-European  unity — whether  in  the 
common  language,  which  afterwards,  under  different  condi 
tions  of  place,  time,  and  circumstances,  became  Sanskrit, 
Greek,  German,  and  the  rest,  any  of  these  forms  were  already 
in  use  for  the  expression  of  the  future — or  whether  we  are  to 
pronounce  them  all,  as  we  must  certainly  pronounce  many  of 
them,  to  be  of  later  growth,  developed  in  particular  sections 
of  the  Indo-European  family,  after  these  had  separated  them 
selves  from  the  common  stock.  In  regard  to  one  of  them, 
the  future  in  s,  there  can  be  little  doubt  of  its  primitive  an 
tiquity.  It  occurs,  as  we  have  seen,  with  evident  identity  of 
form  and  meaning,  in  Sanskrit,  Greek,  and  Lithuanian.  For 
such  an  agreement  in  languages  so  remote  from  one  another, 
there  can  be  but  one  satisfactory  explanation.  It  is  impossi 
ble  to  regard  it  as  the  result  of  an  accidental  coincidence. 
We  are  compelled  to  believe  that  the  common  formation  was 
derived  by  all  the  three  from  a  common  source  ;  and  that  can 
only  be  the  one  common  language  of  which  they  are  all 
descendants.  This  conclusion,  if  it  needed  any  confirmation, 
might  receive  it  from  an  interesting  fact,  which  seems  to 


INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES.  197 

prove  that  the  same  mode  of  formation  once  existed  also  in 
the  Celtic.  The  Irish  language  presents  us  with  an  isolated 
bhus,  meaning  *  it  will  be,'  in  which  it  appears  safe  to  recog 
nize  with  Bopp  a  future  in  s  made  from  the  root  bu — a  form 
strictly  identical  with  Lithuanian  bus,  Greek  (pvaei,.,  Zend 
busyeiti,  Sanskrit  bhavishyatiy  and  we  may  add  Indo-European 
bhusyati.  But  this  conclusion  as  to  the  future  in  s  seems  to 
draw  after  it,  if  not  with  necessity,  yet  with  a  good  degree  of 
probability,  a  similar  conclusion  as  to  that  formation  of  the 
future  which  appears  in  the  Latin  third  conjugation,  and  is  to 
be  traced  in  the  inflection  of  the  Armenian  verb.  We  have 
seen  that  Sanskrit  ddsydmi  (Greek  £GO<J&>)  compounds  the 
stem  da  with  syaini  or  asyamiy  an  old  future  of  the  root  as  y 
and  that  this  last  was  made  by  adding  to  that  root  the  poten 
tial  ya,  and  was  in  fact  a  potential  formation  applied  to  desig 
nate  the  future.  If,  then,  the  primitive  Indo-European  lan 
guage  made  a  future  from  the  root  as  by  applying  to  it  the 
potential  ya,  it  is  very  likely  to  have  formed  other  futures 
from  other  roots  by  a  similar  process.  It  may  have  had  these 
two  formations  of  the  future  existing  side  by  side,  and  used 
perhaps  even  in  the  same  verbs.  Thus  the  root  dik,  '  to 
show,'  may  have  had  the  future  dikayamiy  dikayasi,  dikayati, 
corresponding  nearly  to  Latin  dicamy  dices,  dicet,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  the  future  daiksydmi,  daiksyasi,  daiksyati,  corre 
sponding  to  the  Greek  BSL^M,  Seifeis,  Setfe*. 

The  only  remaining  formation  which  could  be  regarded  as 
having  any  plausible  claim  to  a  like  primitive  antiquity  is  the 
Latin  future  in  bo.  Outside  of  the  Latin,  we  find  it  only  in 
the  Celtic  languages  ;  and  our  opinion  as  to  the  period  of  its 
development  must  depend  a  good  deal  on  the  relation  which 
we  conceive  to  exist  between  the  primitive  Celtic  and  the 
Latin.  If  these  are  as  widely  separated  as  the  Greek  and 
Lithuanian,  the  fact  that  a  form  belonged  alike  to  both  of 
them  would  go  far  to  prove  it  an  element  of  the  common 
Indo-European  language.  This  would  be  a  natural  conclu 
sion  for  those  who  hold,  with  Ebel  and  Lottner,  that  the 
Celtic  languages  are  connected  by  special  affinities  with  those 
of  northern  Europe,  the  Germanic  and  the  Letto-Slavic  :  un 
less,  indeed,  they  should  hold,  as  Lottner  also  does,  that  the 


198  INDO-EUROPEAN  FUTURES. 

Latin  and  the  other  Italic  languages  are  in  the  same  condi 
tion,  and  stand  nearer  to  Celtic,  Germanic,  and  Letto-Slavic 
than  to  the  Greek.  But  there  is  a  different  view,  set  forth 
recently  by  Schleicher  (Beitrdge  zur  vergleichenden  SpracJi- 
forschung,  vol.  i.),  which  I  am  strongly  inclined  to  believe 
will  be  sustained  by  further  study — that  the  Celtic  has  a 
special  connection  with  the  Grrcco-Latin  languages,  but  more 
particularly  with  the  Latin  and  its  sister  languages  of  Italy. 
And  this  formation  of  the  future,  which  belongs  both  to  the  Italic 
and  the  Celtic,  and  to  these  only,  supplies  him  with  one  of 
the  main  pillars  for  his  theory.  Another,  similar  to  this,  but 
even  stronger,  he  finds  in  the  passive  formed  with  r,  which 
belongs  exclusively  to  these  same  languages.  According  to 
this  view,  it  would  be  natural  to  regard  the  future  in  bo  as 
having  arisen  on  Italo-Celtic  ground,  rather  than  as  imported 
from  the  common  home  of  the  Indo-European  family. 


XL 

ON    PASSIVE   FORMATIONS. 
1867. 

I  PROPOSE  to  occupy  your  time  this  evening  for  per 
haps  an  hour  with  some  observations  on  the  formation  of 
the  passive  voice  in  different  languages.  The  object  will  be 
to  show  the  nature  and  variety  of  the  methods  which  have 
been  adopted  by  the  makers  of  human  language — and  it 
must  be  remembered  that  all  users  of  language  are  makers 
of  language — to  express  the  idea  of  the  passive. 

If  knowledge  is  to  follow  the  lead  of  charity,  as  St.  Paul 
would  recommend,  then  knowledge  must  begin  at  home. 
Before  entering  the  Babel  of  outlandish  languages,  we  will 
linger  awhile  with  our  own  kindly  and  intelligible  Eng 
lish.  Yet  we  must  confess  that  this  good  old  mother-tongue, 
with  all  its  resources  and  faculties,  has,  strictly  speaking,  no 
passive  verb  :  I  do  not  say  "  no  passive,"  but  "no  passive 
verb."  .  For  such  words  as  broken,  struck,  loved,  praised,  etc. 
are  not  verbs  :  they  are  nouns,  adjective  nouns,  attributive 
words,  appropriate  to  the  object  of  an  action,  appropriate 
to  that  which  somebody  breaks,  strikes,  loves,  praises. 
In  themselves  they  are  not  predicate-words  :  they  become 
so  only  when  they  are  connected  with  a  verb.  We 
connect  them  with  the  verb  to  be,  as  he  is  praised,  lie  was 
loved  /  and  thus,  if  we  do  not  strictly  form  a  passive  verb, 
we  at  least  supply  the  place  of  one  ;  we  express  under  a 
predicate-form  the  conception  or  relation  of  the  passive.  In 
this  respect  we  stand  on  the  same  footing  as  the  Anglo- 
Saxon.  Our  ancestors  a  thousand  years  ago  were,  like  our 
selves,  without  a  passive  verb,  and  they  supplied  the  defi 
ciency  in  the  same  way  that  we  do.  In  one  respect,  how 
ever,  there  is  a  difference.  We  have  but  one  verb — the 
verb  to  be,  in  its  various  parts — which  we  employ  regularly 
for  this  purpose.  The  Anglo-Saxon  uses  the  same  verb 


200  PASSIVE  FORMATIONS. 

very  frequently — ge  gcliyrdon,  that  gccwcden  wees,  '  ye  have 
heard  that  it  was  said  (was  quothed,  or  quoted),'  etc.  But  fre 
quently  it  uses  another  verb,  one  which  has  all  but  disap 
peared  from  the  present  language.  Every  one  will  remem 
ber  the  complaint  of  Fitz- James  in  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake  : 
"Woe  worth  the  chase,  woe  worth  the  day,  That  cost  thy 
life,  my  gallant  grey  " — that  is  to  say  '  Woe  is  the  chase,'  or 
rather,  '  woe  befalls  it,  woe  betides  it.'  This  worth  is  a 
remnant  of  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  weorthan,  '  to  become,' 
which  was  often  used,  like  bcbn,  '  to  be,'  for  expressing  the 
passive.  Thus  "  when  his  father  saw  him  (the  Prodigal  Son), 
he  was  stirred  with  mild-heartedness — lie  wcctrtJi  mid 
mildheortnisse  astyrod ;  "  strictly,  '  he  became,  he  came  to  be 
excited  with  compassion.'  Now  these  two  verbs,  to  be  and 
to  wort h  (if  I  may  give  it  so"),  were  similarly  used  in  the  older 
forms  of  the  High  German,  the  Low  German,  and  the  Dutch, 
the  idioms  most  closely  related  to  the  Anglo-Saxon.  But 
in  the  modern  forms  of  all  these  languages,  the  verb  to  be  has 
lost  this  use,  and  only  the  verb  to  worth  is  employed  for  ex 
pressing  the  passive. 

Thus,  for  '  he  is  loved,'  the  German  says,  not  cr  ist gcliebt, 
but  cr  wird  geliebt.  If  we  find  in  German  such  an  expres 
sion  as  cr  ist  geliebt)  the  participle  has  sunk  into  a  mere  adjec 
tive,  as  though  one  should  say  "  he  is  dear,"  "  he  is  accepta 
ble."  These  forms  arc  evidently  quite  different  from  the  real 
passive,  in  which  we  have  the  idea  of  an  action  proceeding 
from  an  agent  to  an  object  :  as,  '  he  is  loved  by  his  friends,' 
where  the  German  can  only  say  cr  wird  geliebt  von  scinen 
Freimden.  It  is  certainly  a  curious  circumstance  that  out  of 
the  two  auxiliaries  which  were  originally  employed  both  by  our 
own  language  and  by  its  nearest  kindred,  the  English  should 
have  adopted  the  one  which  all  the  rest  have  discarded — at 
least,  in  this  use  of  it.  But  it  is  a  fact  which  admits  of  a 
plausible  explanation.  The  English  language  has  not  been 
left  to  an  independent  and  spontaneous  development. 
Brought  by  the  Norman  conquest  into  contact  with  the 
French,  it  shows  many  traces  of  the  exotic  influence.  It  is 
not  strange  if,  in  a  choice  between  two  forms  of  expression  al 
ready  existing,  the  result  should  be  determined  by  the  an- 


PASSIVE  FORMA  TIONS.  2O I 

alogy  of  the  intruding  language.  If  the  French  had  used 
devenir,  '  to  become,'  or  some  word  of  similar  meaning,  in 
the  expression  of  the  passive — if  in  the  present  passive  of 
loner,  '  to  praise,'  they  had  said  il  dcvicnt  loue  instead  of  il 
est  lone — it  is  probable  that  we  ourselves  should  now  be 
saying  he  worth  praised  (German,  cr  wird  gelobf)  instead  of 
he  is  praised.  But  the  French  language,  like  its  sisters  of 
Italy  and  Spain,  makes  the  passive  by  usingf  the  verb  '  to  be.' 
And  for  this  also  there  is  an  obvious  historical  reason.  The 
Latin,  from  which  they  are  all  derived,  which  stands  to  them 
in  much  the  same  relation  as  Anglo-Saxon  to  English,  forms 
a  large  part  of  its  passive  in  the  same  way.  The  method 
which  the  Latin  adopted  in  its  complete  tenses — Perf.  amatus 
sinn  or  fuiy  Plup.  amatus  cram  or  fueram,  etc.,  etc. — this 
method  is  extended  in  the  Romance  languages  to  all  the 
tenses,  the  incomplete  as  well  as  the  complete.  In  this  pro 
cess  the  Latin  participle  in  tus  has  lost  the  idea  of  time  which 
generally  belonged  to  it  in  Latin  ;  it  has  changed  from  a  per 
fect  participle  passive  to  a  passive  participle  pure  and  simple. 
The  Latin  laudatus  esl  means  (commonly,  at  least)  '  he  is  the 
object  of  a  past  act  of  praising,'  i.e.  '  he  has  been  praised  ;  ' 
whereas  the  French  il  cst  loue  means  '  he  is  the  object  of  an 
act  of  praising,'  i.  c.  '  he  is  praised.' 

If  now  we  pass  on  to  the  Latin  passive  of  the  incomplete 
tenses,  we  come  for  the  first  time  to  a  true  passive  verb,  an  in 
flexional  form  which  is  in  itself  a  full  predicate,  and  which 
is  made  to  take  for  its  subject  the  real  object  of  the  action. 
Its  characteristic  element  is  the  r  at  or  near  the  end  of  the 
form,  which  appears  in  all  modes  and  tenses  :  as  amor,  amabar, 
amabor,  amcr,  amarcr,  amari,  etc.  ;  and  in  all  numbers  and 
persons  :  as  amor,  amaris  or  -re,  amatnr,  amamnr,  amantur. 
This  statement,  however,  suggests  a  very  notable  exception. 
The  second  person  plural  amamini  (amabamini,  amemini]  is 
in  glaring  contrast  with  the  analogy  of  the  other  forms.  It  is  in 
fact  a  very  different  thing,  being  simply  a  participle,  the  no 
minative  plural  masculine  of  a  lost  participle.  It  is  identical 
with  the  Greek  participles  in  /ze^o?  which  are  so  abundant  in  the 
middle  and  passive  voices  :  as,  from  \u-co,  '  to  loose,'  /Vuo'/ze^o?, 
,  \vad[JLevos,'\v6r)(ToiJievos,  etc.,  etc.  The  Latin  has 


202  PASSIVE  FORMATIONS. 

other  traces  of  this  participle,  as  for  instance  mfemina,  which 
appears  to  be  the  participle  of  a  root  fc,  meaning  '  to  milk, 
suckle.'  The  familiar  word  alumnus  is  equivalent  to  alnminus> 
a  participle  of  the  verb  alo,  meaning  '  one  who  is  nourished  or 
reared  up.'  Apparently  the  Romans  must  once  have  used  #;;*#- 
mini  estis  for  '  ye  are  loved  ;  '  but  when  the  participle  ceased  to 
be  employed  in  other  uses,  the  true  character  of  amamini  was 
forgotten,  it  dropped  the  verb  cstis,  which  would  then  appear 
unnecessary  ;  and,  though  masculine  in  form,  was  applied  to 
a  feminine  subject  not  less  readily  (perhaps,  if  the  sense  of 
the  word  is  considered,  more  readily)  than  to  a  masculine. 

The  passive  in  r  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of 
the  Latin  language.  It  is  not,  however,  confined  to  the  Latin. 
It  is  found  in  the  scanty  remains  of  the  Oscan  and  Umbrian, 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  was  common  to  that  whole 
class  of  languages — the  Italian  class,  as  it  is  called — the  an 
cient  idioms  of  Middle  Italy.  Outside  of  this  class,  it  is  found 
in  the  Celtic  languages,  and  in  those  only.  The  Welsh  and 
Irish,  down  even  to  the  present  day,  have  a  passive  in  ;-,  and 
the  forms  of  this  passive,  as  they  are  found  in  the  oldest 
written  monuments  of  the  Irish  language,  dating  back  about  a 
thousand  years,  have  a  marvellous  resemblance  to  those  of  the 
Latin.  In  the  Celtic,  as  in  the  Latin,  the  formation  in  r  does 
not  extend  to  the  perfect  tense.  In  the  Celtic,  as  in  the 
Latin,  the  formation  in  r  is  excluded  from  the  second  person 
plural.  Both  in  the  perfect  tense,  and  in  the  second  person 
plural,  the  Celtic,  like  the  Latin,  uses  forms  which  appear  to 
have  been  originally  participles.  These  surprising  coincidences 
in  reference  to  the  passive  are  the  main  prop  of  the  hypothesis 
recently  propounded,  according  to  which  the  Celtic  languages 
and  the  Italican  stand  in  a  special  and  close  relation  to  each 
other — a  closer  relation  than  that  which  the  Latin,  for  in 
stance,  bears  to  the  Greek,  or  the  Celtic  to  the  German. 

The  question  comes,  nowr — what  is  the  nature  of  this  passive 
in  r  •  what  are  its  origin  and  its  meaning?  Before  attempting 
an  answer  to  this  question,  let  us  notice  some  facts  which  are 
not  without  their  bearing  on  that  answer. 

The  Italian  language  sometimes  uses  an  active  verb  with 
the  reflexive  pronoun  si,  where  \ve  should  employ  the  pas- 


PASSIVE  FORMATIONS.  203 

sive.  Thus  the  sentence  '  by  a  good  man  virtue  is  not  loved 
on  account  of  utility'  may  be  expressed  in  Italian,  da  un 
uomo  buono  11011  si  aina  la  virtu  per  r iitile — i.  c.,  '  virtue  does 
not  love  itself  (Lat.  11011  se  amat  virtus}.  The  Spanish  has  a 
similar  idiom  :  the  sentence  '  many  lies  are  told '  may  be  ren 
dered  by  sc  dicen  muchas  mcntiras  (Lat.  sc  dicunt  mult  a  mcn- 
dacid] — i.  e.  '  many  lies  tell  themselves,'  or,  '  get  themselves 
told.'  Were  this  the  only  instance  of  the  kind,  one  might 
suppose  that  the  Spanish  people  wished  to  relieve  themselves 
from  apprehended  blame  by  representing  their  little  devia 
tions  from  truth  as  self-produced.  But  the  idiom  is  familiar 
to  these  languages  :  it  is,  however,  confined  in  them  to  the 
3d  person  singular  and  plural.  But  there  is  one  daughter  of 
the  Latin,  a  forlorn  and  neglected  child,  which  is  said  to 
use  this  as  its  regular  form  for  expressing  the  passive  in  all 
persons  and  numbers.  I  refer  to  the  language  of  the  Wal- 
lachians  in  Hungary  and  Turkey,  the  descendants  of  the 
Romanized  Dacians.  For  '  I  am  praised,'  these  people  say 
jo  me  lander,  i.  e.  '  I  praise  myself  (Lat.  ego  me  laudd]  ;  for 
'them  art  praised,'  tit  te  laudi,  '  thou  praisest  thyself;'  for 
'  he  is  praised,'  el  se  laudd,  '  he  praises  himself,'  etc.,  etc. 

The  same  phenomenon  presents  itself  again  in  a  language 
which  as  regards  place  lies  very  near  to  the  Wallachian, 
though  belonging  to  a  different  branch  of  the  Indo-European 
family — the  Old  Slavonic,  as  it  is  called,  or  the  Old  Bulgarian, 
the  language  of  the  Bulgarians  a  thousand  years  ago.  The 
Old  Slavonic  passive  is  made  by  using  with  the  active  verb 
the  word  sen,  which  is  plainly  a  reflexive  pronoun,  like  the 
Latin  sc  and  the  German  sick.  But  while  the  Wallachian,  as 
we  said,  uses  different  pronouns  for  the  different  persons — me 
for  the  first,  te  for  the  second,  and  sc  only  for  the  third — the 
Old  Slavonic  uses  sen  for  all  persons  of  both  numbers.*  Sen 
thus  used  does  not  really  signify  '  myself,  thyself,  himself,' 
etc.,  though  we  have  to  translate  it  by  those  pronouns:  it 
signifies  merely  '  self;'  it  expresses  the  reflexive  relation  and 
nothing  further. 

*  Thus  citun,  'I  honor,'  citun  sen,  'I  am  honored,'  lit.  'I  honor  myself;'  ci- 
tesi,  'thou  honorest,'  citesi  sen  ('thou  honorest  thyself),  'thou  art  honored;' 
cited,  'he  honors,'  citeti  sen  ('  he  honors  himself),  '  he  is  honored.' 


204  PASSIVE  FORMATIONS. 

If  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  reflexive  passive  here  described 
is  found  in  all  the  modern  languages  of  the  Slavonic  class, 
the  Russian,  Polish,  Bohemian,  Servian,  etc. 

Nearly  akin  to  the  Slavonic  idioms  is  the  Lithuanian,  a 
language  of  scarcely  any  literary  cultivation,  but  of  much 
interest  and  importance  to  the  philologist.  The  Slavonic  sen 
is  reduced  in  the  Lithuanian  to  a  mere  s,  which  of  course 
does  not  form  a  word  by  itself,  but  is  attached  as  a  final 
sound  to  the  forms  of  the  active  verb.* 

Now  these  forms  in  s,  vczits,  vczes,  vcsas,  and  the  rest,  are 
not  passive — the  Lithuanian  makes  its  passive  by  connecting 
the  verb  'to  be  '  (csmi,  '  I  am  ' )  with  a  passive  participle. 
They  have  a  reflexive  sense,  '  I  bear  myself,  them  bcarest  thy 
self,'  etc. — they  constitute  a  reflexive  voice,  like  the  middle 
voice  of  the  Greek.  But  I  have  brought  them  in  here  for  the 
sake  of  showing  how  the  reflexive  pronoun,  reduced  to  a 
single  letter,  may  attach  itself  as  a  grammatical  ending  to  the 
inflected  forms  of  an  active  verb.  The  bearing  of  this  will  be 
obvious  as  we  proceed. 

The  Scandinavian  languages — the  Old  Icelandic  or  Old 
Norse,  with  its  modern  descendants,  the  Swedish  and  the 
Danish — form  one  section  of  that  Teutonic  family  to  which 
belong  the  German  and  the  English.  But  as  regards  the  sub 
ject  now  before  us,  these  Scandinavian  languages  are  strik 
ingly  distinguished  from  the  other  members  of  that  family. 
The  Swedish  and  Danish  have  a  passive  in  s,  a  passive  made 
by  adding^  to  the  forms  of  the  active.  Thus,  in  Swedish,  from 
trycka,  '  to  press,'  or  '  I  press,'  comes  the  passive  tryckas, 
'  to  be  pressed,'  or  '  I  am  pressed  ;  '  from  pj-isadc,  '  I  praised,' 
the  passive  firtsades,  '  I  was 'praised,'  etc.  Instead  of  this  s, 
the  Old  Icelandic  has  st.  Thus  skjota,  '  to  shoot,  throw,' 
passive  skjotast,  '  to  be  thrown,  to  fall;'  Impf.  skaut,  'he 
shot,  threw,'  passive  skaut-st,  'he  was  thrown.'  But  in  the 
oldest  manuscripts  we  find  sk  instead  of  st :  skjotask,  'to  be 
thrown,'  skantsk,  '  he  was  thrown.'  And  it  may  be  regarded 
as  perfectly  certain  that  this  sk  is  only  a  shortened  form  of 

*  Thus,  from  vezu,  '  I  cai'ry '  (Lat.  ve/io),  with  added  .c,  comes  the  form  vezu-s  ; 
from  vezi,  '  thou  earnest,'  comes  veze-s ;  from  vcza,  'he  carries,'  veza-s — and  so 
on,  through  the  dual  and  plural. 


PASSIVE  FORMATIONS.  205 

the  reflexive  pronoun  sik,  the  same  as  German  sick.  The 
formation  here  described  is  in  trie  highest  degree  interesting, 
because  the  process  goes  on,  so  to  speak,  under  our  own  eyes. 
We  see  the  reflexive  pronoun  sik  losing  its  separate  character, 
and,  under  the  shortened  form  sk,  attaching  itself  to  the 
active  verb,  which  it  converts  into  a  passive  :  then,  uncon 
scious  of  its  origin,  passing  for  easier  pronunciation  into  st ; 
and  finally,  going  into  the  yet  easier  s,  which  only  a  philolo 
gist  would  think  of  as  ever  having  been  a  separate  word. 

After  this  somewhat  lengthy  detour,   which  has  taken  us 
the  round  of  Europe,  we  come  back  to  our  Latin  passive  in 
r.      This  is   regarded  now   by   the  students    of   comparative 
philology  as  a  formation  of  precisely  the  same  nature  as  the 
one  just  considered  :   it  is  believed  to  have  been  formed  by 
adding  the  reflexive  sc,  or  at  least  the  s  of  it,  to  the  forms  of  the 
active.     Thus  landor  is  supposed  to  be  for  laudos,  or  lando  sc, 
'  I  praise  self  (myself)  ;  '   laudaris  for  landasis,  or  laudas(i)se> 
'  thou  praisest  self  (thyself; ;  '  laudatur  for  laudatus,  or  landa- 
t(ii]se,  'he  praises  self  (himself),'  etc.,  etc.     The  change  of  s 
to    r  is  one  of  the  most    familiar  phenomena    of   the  Latin 
language.      It  occurs  most  frequently  between  vowels,  as  in 
genus,  generis,  gcncri  (for  genesis,  gcnesi]  ;   in  cram,  '  I  was  ' 
(for  esain],  from  the  root  cs,  which  appears  in  cs-sc,  cs-to,  cs-tis  ; 
and  a  multitude  of  other  cases.      Yet  it  is  by  no  means  un 
known     at     the     end     of    a    word  :     we    have    both    arbos 
and  arbor,  '  tree,'  both  honos  and  honor,  '  honor,'  where  the 
form  in  s  is  unquestionably  the  older  of  the  two.     We  can 
therefore  easily  believe  that  laudor  should  be  the  later  form 
for  an  earlier  landos,  and  the  rest  in  the  same  way.     It  must 
be  confessed,  indeed,  that  the  case  is  not  quite  so  clear  a  one 
as  this  statement  would  seem  to  make  it.      For  we  have  to 
consider  not  the  Latin  only,  but  the  other  Italican  languages, 
the  Oscan,  Umbrian,  etc.,  which  have  the  passive  in  r  ;  and 
not  these   only,  but  the  Celtic   languages,   the  Welsh,    Irish, 
etc.,  which  have  it  likewise.      Most  of  these  other  languages 
do  not  show  the  tendency  so  common  in  Latin  to  exchange  s 
for  r.     Nor  is  there  any  reason  to  suppose  that  the  parent 
language  from  which  the  various  Italican  or  Celtic  idioms  de 
rived  their  origin  had  any  general  tendency  to  exchange  s  for 


206  PASSIVE  FORMATIONS. 

r.  It  is  enough  to  point  out  this  difficulty  :  I  need  not  go 
into  the  considerations  by  which  its  force  perhaps  may  be  in 
some  measure  abated.  It  seems  impossible  to  explain  the 
Latin  passive  in  any  other  way  ;  to  explain  it  in  this  way,  as 
a  reflexive  formation,  is  at  once  natural  in  itself  and  support 
ed  by  strong  analogies  from  various  quarters.  Philologists, 
therefore,  notwithstanding  the  difficulty  referred  to,  have 
generally  adopted  this  explanation. 

I -will  only  add  that  this  way  of  accounting  for  the  passive 
throws  a  welcome  light  on  the  deponent  verbs.  Why,  it  may 
be  asked,  should  verbs  of  purely  active  meaning — such  as 
conor,  (  to  endeavor,'  rcminiscory  '  to  remember,'  ntor,  '  to 
use,'  orior,  '  to  rise,' /;rcw,  '  to  pray,'  etc.,  etc. — why  should 
they  receive  a  passive  ending  ?  The  best  answer  would  be 
to  deny  the  facts  :  these  verbs  have  not  a  purely  active  mean 
ing,  and  they  have  not  received  a  passive  ending.  They  are 
verbs  of  reflexive  meaning,  and  they  have  received,  as  it  is 
most  proper  that  they  should,  a  reflexive  ending.  Thus 
conor  means  '  to  exert  one's  self,'  reminiscor,  '  to  remind  one's 
self,'  utor,  '  to  serve  one's  self  (with  something,  whence  it  is 
followed  by  an  instrumental  ablative),  orior,  '  to  raise  one's 
self,'  prccoi'j  '  to  ask  for  one's  self,'  etc. 

From  Latin  to  Greek  is  a  natural  transition.  Here  the 
fact  which  strikes  us  first  is  that  the  Greek  passive  is  to  a 
great  extent  borrowed  from  the  middle  or  reflexive  voice.  If 
there  are  any  here  who  were  brought  up  under  the  old  regime  in 
Greek  grammar  and  fed  upon  imaginary  forms  of  TUTTTW,  they 
will  perhaps  be  surprised  by  this  statement.  For  they  have 
learned  that  7V7TTo/j.ai  and  ervirro^v  are  true  passive  forms, 
which  the  middle,  to  supply  its  own  deficiencies,  is  compelled 
to  borrow7.  But  they  must  know  that  all  this  is  changed  now- 
a-days.  There  has  been  a  revolution,  in  which  the  passive 
(fulfilling  its  own  name)  has  been  a  sufferer,  and  the  long  de 
frauded  middle  has  come  to  its  just  rights.  The  passive  now 
has  but  two  tenses  of  its  own,  its  aorist  audits  future  :  for  all 
the  rest,  for  present  and  imperfect,  perfect  and  pluperfect 
and  future-perfect — this  last  being  the  "  paulo-post  future  "  of 
the  old  grammars — for  all  these  it  must  acknowledge  its  de 
pendence  upon  the  middle.  In  other  words,  it  is  now  ac- 


PASSIVE  FORMATIONS.  2O/ 

kncwledged  that  such  forms  as  present  \ovopai,  imperfect 
eXovbpJiv,  perfect  \e\ovpai,,  pluperfect  eKeXovptjv,  are  primarily 
reflexive  forms,  and  that  their  passive  use  is  secondary  :  that 
in  \ovopai,  for  example,  the  first  meaning  was  '  I  wash  my 
self,'  and  the  second  '  I  am  washed,'  precisely  as  the  Latin 
favor,  according  to  the  explanation  just  given,  must  have 
meant  *  I  wash  myself,'  before  it  meant  '  I  am  washed.'  Now 
the  peculiarity  of  the  Greek  middle  as  compared  with  the 
active  —its  formal  peculiarity — lies  in  its  personal  endings  ;  it  is 
the  personal-endings  which  distinguish  the  middle  voice  as 
such.  Thus,  in  the  singular  of  the  active,  the  original  end 
ings  were  pi,  &i,  ri:  we  see  them  in  the  verb  'to  be'- — 1st 
person  dpi  (for  ecr-pi),  '  I  am,'  2d  ecr-crl  (Horn.),  *  thou  art,' 
3d  ecr-W,  '  he  is.'  It  is  obvious  that /-a,  CTL,  ri  are  pronouns,  and 
express  the  subject  of  the  verb  :  thus,  ecr-pl  -- '  is  me'  or  '  I 
am  ;  '  e<r-o-i  —  '  is  thec  '  or  '  thou  art ; '  eV-Tt'='  is  that '  or  '  that 
,(one)  is,  he  is.'  For  pi,  cri,  TI,  the  middle  has  pai,  aai,  rat,  ; 
as  in  i'crrapai,  I'o-racrai,  'iuraiai.  Why,  then,  should  an  active 
form  become  middle  by  simply  changing  pi,  ai,  ri  to  pai,  crai, 
rai?  On  this  point  there  are  two  views,  each  of  which  h^s 
its  adherents.  According  to  one  view,  pat,,  aai,rai  are  mere 
ly  lengthened  or  strengthened  forms  of  LJU,  crt?  rt,  and  by  their 
greater  length  indicate  the  greater  importance  which  belongs 
to  the  grammatical  subject  in  the  reflexive  verb.  For,  in  the 
expression  /  'wash  myself^  the  first  person,  the  I,  is  a  very 
important  person,  being  at  once  subject  and  object  of  the  ac 
tion,  its  original  and  end.  The  importance  of  this  person 
may  be  expressed,  not  unfitly,  by  strengthening  the  syllable 
which  represents  it.  According  to  the  other  view,  pai,  crai, 
rai  are  modified  forms  of  pa-pi,  ea-ai,  ra-ri,  in  each  of  which 
the  person  is  expressed  twice,  first  as  object,  then  as  subject. 
Thus  Xovopai,  for  \ovo-pa -pi,  would  mean  '  wash-me-I,'  i.e. 
'  I  wash  myself;  '  \ove(cr)ai,  for  \ove-cra-cn,,  '  \vash-thee-thou,' 
i.e.  'thou  washest  thyself;'  \oi'e-rai,  -for  Xove-ra-n,  (  wash- 
him-he,'  i.e.  '  he  washes  himself.'  I  shall  not  discuss  these 
two  views  ;  neither  of  them  can  be  regarded  as  anything  more 
'than  a  hypothesis,  until  it  is  shown  that  some  similar  explana 
tion  can  be  given'  for  the  other  personal  endings. 

I  remark,  however,  that  a  passive  formed  in  the  same  way 


208  PASSIVE  FORMATIONS, 

once  existed  in  our  own  Teutonic  family  of  languages. 
There  is  no  trace  of  it,  indeed,  in  the  Anglo-Saxon,  nor  in 
the  Old  Icelandic,  nor  in  the  Old  High  German  :  but  if  we 
go  back  beyond  all  these  to  the  earliest  monument  of 
our  family,  to  the  Gothic  Bible-translation  made  by  Bishop 
Ulfilas  in  the  4th  century,  we  find  it  there.  The  Gothic 
bairada,  '  he  is  borne/  corresponds  exactly  in  every  respect 
to  the  Greek  Qeperai ;  the  Gothic  bairanda,  '  they  are  borne,' 
corresponds  in  the  same  way  to  the  Greek  fyipovrai.  It  is  appa 
rent  that  in  the  time  of  Ulfilas  the  Gothic  was  already  beginning 
to  lose  this  formation.  It  is  only  found  in  the  present,  in 
dicative  and  subjunctive  :  even  here  the  first  person  singular 
is  gone,  its  place  being  supplied  by  the  third,  while  in  the 
plural  both  the  first  and  second  persons  have  disappeared, 
and  the  third  does  duty  for  them.  It  is  not  surprising,  there 
fore,  that  succeeding  monuments  of  the  Teutonic  languages, 
the  earliest  of  which  are  some  three  centuries  later,  should 
show  no  trace  of  this  formation.  If  the  Bible  of  Ulfilas,  which 
survives  only  in  scanty  fragments,  had  perished  altogether, 
there  would  be  no  evidence  that  this  middle-passive  was 
for  ages  the  common  possession  of  Teutons  and  Grecians. 

I  have  said  that,  while  the  Greek  passive  borrows  most  of 
its  tenses  from  the  middle  or  reflexive  voice'  it  has  two — an 
aorist  and  future — which  are  peculiar  to  itself.  But  before 
looking  at  these  we  will  glance  at  the  ancient  language  of 
India.  The  Sanskrit  passive,  as  compared  with  the  Greek, 
shows  remarkable  coincidences  along  with  remarkable  differ 
ences.  In  both  languages  the  perfect  passive  is  borrowed 
from  the  middle.  But  in  the  aorist  and  future,  where  the 
Greek  has  a  distinct  form  for  the  passive,  the  Sanskrit  does 
not  generally  distinguish  it  from  the  middle.  And  on  the 
other  hand,  in  the  present  and  imperfect,  where  the  Greek 
passive  is  always  the  same  as  the  middle,  the  Sanskrit  has  a 
distinct  formation  for  the  passive.  This  is  made  by  adding  to 
the  stem  of  the  verb  the  syllable  ya,  which  always  takes  the 
accent.  Thus,  from  tnd,  '  to  strike/  a  root  which  appears  in 
the  Latin  verb  tiuido,  the  Sanskrit  makes  tud-yd-tc,  '  he  is 
struck/  tud-ya-ntc,  '  they  are  struck.'  Now  the  syllabic  ya 
occurs  in  Sanskrit  as  the  root  of  a  separate  verb,  which  means 


PASSIVE  FORMATIONS.  209 

'  to  go  :  '  and  it  is  believed  that  the  formative  ya  of  the  pas 
sive  is  no  other  than  this  root  yd,  'to  go.'  If  this  be  so, 
tudyate  would  mean  '  he  goes  to  a  striking,  he  meets  or  in 
curs  a  striking.'  A  curious  parallel  as  regards  the  meaning 
is  found  in  the  familiar  Latin  veneo,  'to  be  sold,'  infin.  venire, 
undoubtedly  for  vennm  co,  vermin  ire,  '  to  go  to  sale,'  and 
hence  '  to  be  sold.' 

This  Sanskrit  passive  reappears  in  the  Armenian,  where 
the  syllable j/#  is  reduced  to  the  simple  vowel  i.  Probably 
also  it  reappears  in  the  Greek,  where  the  second  aorist  pas 
sive  is  formed  by  adding  to  the  stem  an  e  or  77,  which  may 
easily  be  connected  with  the  Sanskrit  ya.  Thus  eVX^y//^, 
from  7r\ij(7o-a),  '  to  beat,'  would  mean  '  I  went  to  a  beating,  I 
was  beaten.'  As  regards  the  Greek  first  aorist  passive,  the 
aorist  in  OTJV,  that  is  still  an  enigma  :  solutions  have  been  pro 
posed  for  it,  but  none  that  can  be  accepted  as  satisfactory. 

We  have  now  reviewed  the  modes  of  passive  formation 
which  appear  in  the  Indo-European  class  of  languages.  And 
we  have  seen  that  one  of  the  most  common  modes,  perhaps 
the  most  common  of  all,  is  the  use  of  some  form  which  was 
originally  and  properly  reflexive.  For  '  he  is  praised  '  it  has 
been,  and  still  is,  a  very  common  thing  to  say  he  praises  him 
self.  If  we  inquire  into  the  rationale  of  this  expression,  we 
shall  easily  recognize  in  it  the  principle  of  qui  facit  per  alium 
facit  per  se.  One  who  makes  others  praise  him  praises  him 
self.  I  praise  myself,  if  I  proceed  and  act  in  such  a  way  as 
to  get  praise  from  those  around  me.  And  this  is  tantamount 
to  saying  that,  if  I  am  praised,  I  praise  myself.  What  I  wish 
.to  say  is,  that  the  reflexive  which  serves  to  express  the  pas 
sive  is  a  causal  reflexive.  The  Latin  laudor,  the  Swedish 
prisas,  the  Greek  eiraivovfjicn,,  all  mean  '  I  make  men  praise 
me,  I  let  men  praise  me,  I  get  men  to  praise  me,'  or  something 
of  that  kind.  They  are  causal  reflexives.  In  this  view,  it  is  a 
significant  circumstance  that  the  Sanskrit,  which  has  both  a 
causal  and  a  passive,  forms  them  both  in  very  much  the  same 
way  :  it  adds  ya  to  form  the  passive,  and  ay  a  to  form  the 
causal.  But  if  we  go  outside  the  bounds  of  the  Indo-European 
family,  we  shall  find  cases  more  striking  and  unequivocal  of  a 
connection  between  causal  and  passive.  The  Magyar,  or  Hun- 
H 


2 1  o  PASSIVE  FORMA  TIONS. 

garian,  belongs,  as  all  know,  to  that  class  of  languages  which  is 
variously  called  Tartaric  or  Altaic  or  Turanian  ;  the  same  class 
to  which  belong  the  Finnish  and  the  Turkish  and  the  Manchu. 
The  Magyar  forms  both  the  causal  and  the  passive  by  adding 
the  same  syllable  tat  or  at  (tct  or  cf)  to  the  root  of  the  verb  : 
thus,  from  the  root  Idt,  meaning  '  to  see,'  comes  Idt-tat,  which 
is  used  both  for  the  causal  and  for  the  passive.  How,  then, 
are  these  two  uses  distinguished  from  each  other  ?  By 
the  endings.  The  Magyar  has  endings  which  are  applied 
only  to  transitive  verbs,  such  as  to  love,  praise,  strike, 
etc.,  and  other  endings  which  are  applied  only  to  intransi 
tive  verbs,  such  as  to  sleep,  dream,  walk,  fall,  etc.,  verbs 
in  which  the  action  is  confined  to  the  sphere  of  the  agent  or 
subject,  affecting  no  other  object.  If  then  Idttat,  which  is 
made  by  adding  the  formative  syllable  tat  to  the  root  ldtt  '  to 
sec,'  is  to  be  used  as  a  causal,  it  takes  the  transitive  endings  : 
Idttat  ok,  '  I  cause  to  see,'  i.  e.  I  cause  a  seeing  of  which  (not  I 
myself,  but)  something  else  is  the  object.  But  if  Idttat  is  to  be 
used  as  passive,  it  takes  the  intransitive  endings  :  lattat  o?nt 
'  I  am  seen.'  i.  c.  I  cause  a  seeing  which  has  no  other  object 
than  me,  I  cause  a  seeing  which  affects  myself  only.  In  like 
manner  the  Finnish,  the  Esthonian,  and  other  languages 
which  stand  nearest  to  the  Magyar,  show  a  close  connection 
between  causal  and  passive,  though  they  do  not  exhibit  the 
nature  of  that  connection  with  the  same  beautiful  distinctness. 
But  there  is  a  language  spoken  by  Indians  of  South  America, 
the  Arauack  language,  which  seems  to  be  more  transparent 
in  this  respect  than  even  the  Magyar.  It  forms  a  reflexive 
by  adding  niia  to  the  root  of  the  verb  :  thus,  from  assukussun, 
'to  wash,'  comes  assnkussunnua,  'to  wash  one's  self.'  It 
forms  a  causal  by  adding  knttun  to  the  stem  :  thus,  from 
assuktissuu,  '  to  wash,'  comes  assukussukuttuny  '  to  cause  to 
wash.'  Now  the  passive  is  made  by  combining  these  two 
signs,  kuttnn  for  the  causal  and  nna  for  the  reflexive  ;  it  adds 
kuttunnua  to  the  stem  of  the  verb  :  dssukussu-kuttun-nuat  '  to 
cause  to  wash  one's  self,'  to  cause  a  washing  of  which  the 
object  is  one's  self—/,  c.  to  be  washed. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  an  intransitive  verb  is  used  to 
express    the    passive.      Thus,    instead   of  "he   was   killed   in 


PASSIVE  FORMA  TIONS.  2 1 1 

battle"  we  often  say  "he  fell  in  battle."  The  Greek  hardly 
ever  uses  the  passive  aorist  of  Kreivw,  'to  kill,'  but  substitutes 
for  it  the  aorist  active  of  the  intransitive  aTToOvr^a-Kci)  :  aTredave, 
'  he  died,'  instead  of  e/crdOrj,  '  he  was  killed.'  Most  languages, 
doubtless,  would  show  occasional  instances  of  this  kind ;  but 
in  some  languages  the  idiom  assumes  a  more  definite  and 
formal  character.  This  is  the  case  in  Gothic,  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  had  begun  to  lose  the  old  middle-passive  that 
belonged  to  it  in  ccmmon  with  the  Greek.  It  often  uses  in 
place  of  that  a  peculiar  series  of  intransitives,  made  by  adding 
na  to  the  stem  of  the  active  verb.  Thus,  vei/ian,  '  to  conse 
crate,'  but  veihnan,  '  to  be  consecrated  ; '  aft  air  an,  '  to  tear 
off,'  but  aftaurnan,  'to  be  torn  off;'  fraliusan  (Germ,  ver- 
licreii)S  to  lose,'  but  fralusnan,  'to  be  lost,  to  be  forlorn.' 
In  the  Semitic  languages  (Hebrew,  Arabic,  Syriac,  etc.), 
passives  are  made  to  a  great  extent  by  merely  changing  the 
vowels  of  the  active  verb  :  thus  Arabic  qatala,  '  he  killed/ 
but  qutila,  'he  was  killed.'  Passives  such  as  these  are 
properly  regarded  as  intransitives  used  to  express  the  pas 
sive.  This  view  of  their  nature  may  perhaps  account  for  the 
singular  fact  that,  in  the  Arabic,  passives  like  qutila  cannot  be 
used  when  the  agent  or  doer  of  the  action  is  to  be  expressed. 
If  I  wish  to  say  in  Arabic  'the  vizier  was  killed,'  I  can  use 
the  form  qutila :  qutila  Tvazlru  ;  but  if  I  wish  to  say  '  the 
vizier  was  killed  by  the  sultan/  I  can  no  longer  use  qutila  •  I 
must  take  some  other  form  of  expression.  If  qutila  had  the 
nature  of  a  true  and  complete  passive,  it  could  hardly  be  sub 
ject  to  a  restriction  like  this. 

In  English — and  the  same  thing  is  more  or  less  true  of 
other  languages — there  are  some  verbs  which  may  be  used 
without  any  change  of  form  both  actively  and  passively. 
Thus,  "the  water  filled  the  ship,"  and  "the  ship  filled  with 
water;"  "the  bad  air  sickened  him,"  and  "he  sickened 
with  the  bad  air;"  "the  woman  washes  the  calico,"  and 
"the  calico  washes  well,"  etc.  In  one  auxiliary  formation, 
this  double  use  as  active  or  passive  belongs  to  the  established 
idiom  of  our  language.  We  say  "he  is  building  the  house," 
and  "the  house  is  building;"  "while  he  was  doing  these 
things,"  and  "  while  these  things  were  doing."  It  is  in  order 


212  PASSIVE  FORMATIONS. 

to  avoid  the  ambiguity  of  this  form  that  men  have  latterly 
begun  to  say  "  the  house  is  being  built,"  "  these  things  were 
being  done."  These  forms  of  the  continued  passive  have 
had  to  undergo  much  severe  criticism,  and  it  can  hardly  be 
denied  that  they  are  somewhat  illogical  and  perhaps  yet  more 
unwieldy.  Still,  they  have  their  convenience  :  probably 
there  is  no  man  who,  if  the  fear  of  the  grammarians  were 
taken  from  him,  would  not  occasionally  use  them.  Like 
other  things  which  are  homely  and  useful,  they  will  be  likely 
to  maintain  themselves  against  all  opposition,  at  least  in  the 
language  of  conversation  and  extemporaneous  speaking, 
and  may  possibly  gain  a  place  at  last  even  in  polite  litera 
ture. 

There  are  languages,  however,  in  which  this  indifferent  use 
of  the  same  form  as  active  or  passive  is  carried  to  a  yet  great 
er  extent.  In  the  Tibetan  language,  all  transitive  verbs  can 
be  used  as  passives  ;  and  indeed,  this  is  by  far  the  most  fre 
quent  use  of  them.  It  is  not  strange  that  in  monosyllabic 
languages,  like  the  Chinese,  which  are  of  course  destitute  of 
all  inflection,  the  same  verb  should  be  employed  at  pleasure 
as  active  or  passive.  The  Chinese,  however,  does  contrive  to 
make  a  sort  of  passive,  by  prefixing  to  the  verb  a  certain 
relative  particle  :  thus,  for  '  it  is  seen  '  the  Chinese  can  say  '  it 
is  what  see  ;  '  for  '  it  is  heard,'  he  can  say  '  it  is  what  hear,' 
and  the  like. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  when  we  have  come  to  a  language 
which  has  no  special  form  for  the  passive,  but  uses  the  same 
form  as  active  or  passive  indifferently,  we  have  reached  the 
minimum  point.  But  this  is  not  the  fact.  There  lies  beyond 
it  an  absolute  zero.  There  are  languages  which  not  only 
have  no  form  of  expression  for  the  passive,  but  have  not  even 
the  idea  of  the  passive.  Such  is  the  language  of  the  Osage 
Indians,  in  which  the  words  "  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened 
to  you  "  have  to  be  translated  by,  '  knock  and  they  will  open 
to  you.'  So,  too,  the  language  of  the  Dacotah  Indians,  in 
which  the  words  "Jesus  came  to  John  and  was  baptized  in 
Jordan,"  are  rendered  '  Jesus  came  to  John_and  they  baptized 
him  in  Jordan.'  In  these  idioms,  the  agent  or  doer  of  the  action 
always  appears  in  the  nominative,  and  if  the  agent  is  unknown 


PASSIVE  FORMATIONS. 


213 


or  unthought  of,  the  indefinite  third  person  plural  takes  the 
place  of  it  :  as  'they  will  open  it,'  instead  of  "  it  will  be 
opened;"  '  they  baptized  him,'  instead  of"  he  was  baptized." 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  languages  which  show  a 
marked  predilection  for  the  passive.  This  is  true  of  the  Ti 
betan,  just  mentioned,  which  with  transitive  verbs  regularly 
employs  the  passive  construction,  except  in  certain  limited 
and  comparatively  unfrequent  cases.  Sometimes  languages 
which  are  nearly  related  to  each  other  differ  widely  in  this 
respect.  Thus,  in  Western  Africa,  the  Mpongwe  has  a  de 
cided  preference  for  the  passive,  while  the  kindred  Bakele  as 
decidedly  prefers  the  active,  and  the  Benga  employs  both 
active  and  passive  with  equal  readiness. 

We  have  noticed  that  there  are  passive  formations  which 
are  never  used  where  the  agent  or  doer  of  the  action  is  to  be 
mentioned  in  the  same  connection.  But  as  a  general  thing, 
the  agent  is  or  can  be  introduced  in  some  dependent  con 
struction  along  with  the  passive.  In  such  cases,  the  relation 
of  the  agent  to  the  action  is  differently  conceived  and  ex 
pressed  in  different  languages.  In  the  largest  number,  per 
haps,  the  agent  is  thought  of  as  the  source  or  starting-point 
from  which  the  action  proceeds.  Thus  in  Latin,  discipulus 
laudatur  a  magistro,  '  the  pupil  is  praised  by  the  master,' 
literally  '  from  the  master.'  So  in  the  modern  descendants  of 
the  Latin  :  Italian  dal  maestro,  French  du  maitre,  etc.  So  in 
German,  von  dcm  Meister,  and  so  in  a  multitude  of  other  lan 
guages.  Some  languages  (as  the  Tibetan),  which  have  an  in 
strumental  case,  use  it  for  the  agent  with  a  passive  verb.  In 
like  manner  we,  in  English,  use  the  instrumental  preposition 
by ;  though  it  must  be  observed  that  the  instrumental  use  of 
this  preposition  is  a  secondary  one.  Primarily  it  denotes 
nearness  or  association  :  the  instrument  is  that  with  which,  in 
presence  of  which,  in  connection  with  which,  something 
takes  place.  "The  resolution  was  read  by  the  chairman," 
simply  represents  the  chairman  as  near  to  the  reading,  and 
closely  connected  with  it.  In  Greek,  the  preposition  VTTO, 
'  under,'  is  placed  before  the  agent :  he  is  thought  of,  appa 
rently,  as  standing  over  his  work,  supervising  it  and  having  it 
under  his  control  Not  a  few  languages  put  the  agent  in  the 


2 1 4  PASSIVE  FORMA  TIONS. 

genitive — a  pretty  clear  sign  that  the  so-called  passive  is  then 
in  reality  a  verbal  noun. 

A  curious  statement  is  made  in  regard  to  certain  languages  of 
the  Philippine  islands.  They  have  three  different  forms  of 
the  passive  verb,  according  as  the  subject  of  the  passive  is  the 
object  of  the  action,  or  the  instrument  of  the  action,  or  the 
place  of  the  action.  Thus  a  sentence  like  "the  servant 
searched  for  the  book  with  the  light  in  the  chamber,"  can  in 
those  languages  be  expressed  passively  in  three  different 
ways,  with  three  different  forms  of  the  passive  verb,  accord 
ing  as  we  take  the  book,  the  light,  or  the  chamber,  for  the 
subject-nominative.  In  all  of  them  the  agent  (that  is,  the 
servant)  will  be  put  in  the  genitive  ;  and  this  shows  that  the 
three  passive  forms  are  in  reality  verbal  nouns  denoting  the 
object,  the  instrument,  or  the  place  of  an  action.  The  first 
is  analogous  to  the  Latin  alumnus*  the  object  of  nourishing, 
the  person  nourished;  the  second  to  the  Latin  aratrum,  the 
plough,  the  instrument  of  ploughing  ;  the  third  to  the  Latin 
auditorium,  the  place  of  hearing.  The  three  passive  senten 
ces,  then,  in  the  Philippine  language,  would  be  exactly  ren 
dcrcd  into 'English  as  follows  :  1st.  '  The  servant's  object  of 
search  was  the  book  with  the  light  in  the  chamber  ;  '  2d.  '  The 
servant's  instrument  of  search  foj  the  book  was  the  light  in 
the  chamber  ;  '  3d.  *  The  servant's  place  of  search  for  the 
book  with  the  light  was  the  chamber/ 


XII. 

REMARKS    ON    THE    USES  OF  THE    LATIN    SUB 
JUNCTIVE. 

1870. 

IN  all  the  uses  of  the  subjunctive  there  is  a  common  nega 
tive  element.  It  never  expresses  the  conception  of  reality. 
This  conception,  which  is  always  present  with  the  indicative, 
is  always  absent  from  the  subjunctive.  But  in  the  uses  of 
the  subjunctive  there  are  also  positive  elements  ;  there  are 
special  conceptions  which  it  is  fitted  to  express.  The  first  of 
these  probably  in  the  order  of  time  is  that  of  wishing.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  si m,  vclini,  cdim,  duim  contain  the  formative 
i  or}' a  of  the  Sanskrit  potential,  the  Greek  optative,  the  Teu 
tonic  subjunctive.  So  also  the  present  subjunctives  \ncmt  es, 
ett  etc.,  of  the  first  conjugation,  and  possibly  those  in  am,  as, 
at,  etc.,  of  the  other  conjugations  ;  though  the  latter  are  gen 
erally  supposed  to  correspond  to  the  Greek  subjunctive  and 
the  Sanskrit  Let-form  of  the  Vedic  language.  As  to  the 
other  tenses  of  the  Latin  subjunctive,  while  the  imperfect  at 
least  is  still  involved  in  much  obscurity,  it  can  hardly  be 
doubted  that  they  all  contain  this  same  /or  ya.  And  of  that 
element  the  primitive  function  was  probably  optative  ;  it  was 
at  first  the  expression  of  a  wish.  On  this  assumption,  appa 
rently,  we  can  most  easily  and  naturally  explain  the  uses  of 
the  forms  which  contain  this  element  through  our  whole 
family  of  languages.  At  this  point,  then,  we  begin  with  the 
Latin  Subjunctive. 

i.  The  Latin  subjunctive  is  used  to  express  an  action  as  de 
sired  or  wished  for.  Thus  in  exhortation,  request,  command, 
deprecation,  prohibition,  etc.  With  the  idea  of  wishing  is 
naturally  associated  that  of  aim  :  from  desire  we  proceed  to 
purpose,  and  then  to  effort  for  the  attainment  of  our  purpose. 
Hence — 


2 1 6  LA  TIN  SUBJUNCTIVE. 

2.  The  Latin   subjunctive  is  used  to   express  an  action  as 
aimed  at  or  striven  for  (acted  for).       Fearing  implies  wish  or 
aim  that  something*  may  not  take  place  ;  and  it  is  therefore  ex 
pressed  by  ne  with  the  subjunctive  :  that  is,  expressed  as  ne 
gative  purpose.      In   the  uses  hitherto   considered,  there  is  a 
conscious  tendency  toward  an  object  which  is  both  expected 
and  desired.      But   the   idea  of  desire   may  fade  out,  leaving 
only  that  of  conscious  tendency  toward  an  expected  object. 
Hence  — 

3.  The   Latin  subjunctive   is   used  to  express  an  action  as 
looked  toward  and  waited  for.      So   in    many  dependent  sen 
tences  beginning  with  '  until  '  and  '  as  long  as.'     This  forward 
looking  of  the  subjunctive  is  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  it  is 
commonly  used  with  antcqnam  and  priusquam,   while  post- 
quain  regularly  takes  the  indicative.      But  the  tendency  ex 
pressed  by  the  subjunctive  is  not  necessarily  a  conscious  (or 
subjective)  one,  a  movement  of  the  mind  ;   it  may  be  an  un 
conscious   (or  objective)    tendency,    a  movement   of  circum 
stances   or   causes,    tending   toward   some  result,    that  result 
being   conceived   of  not   as  real,  but  only   as   the  object  of  a 
tendency.      Hence— 

4.  The  Latin  subjunctive  is  used  to  express  an  action  as  a 
result,  as  that  toward  which  there  is  a  tendency.     The  Latin 
is  apt  to  think  of  things  characteristic  or  customary  in  this 
way,  to  conceive  them  as  what  the  circumstances,   conditions, 
or  cases  tend  to  produce.      Non  is  cst  qni  hoc patiatur — there 
is  no  tendency  in  his   case   to   such   endurance,   it  is  not  his 
habit  or  character  to  endure  this.      But  the  idea  of  tendency 
which  we  have  traced  through  all  these  uses  may  itself  grow 
dim  and  fade  out,  partially  or  wholly,  leaving  that  of  an  ex 
pectable  or  possible  event.      Hence  — 

5.  The  Latin  subjunctive  may  express  an  action  as  a  pos 
sible  event.    And  by  "  possible"  here  I  do  not  mean  '  feasible, 
practicable,'  that  for  whose  production  there  exist  adequate 
powers.       I  mean    simply   '  liable  to  occur,'    that  which  has 
more  or  less  chance  for  existence.     This  is  the  potential  sub 
junctive.      It  presents  the  mode  in  its  dimmest,  most  attenu 
ated  state,  with  the  minimum  of  positive  elements  over  and 
above  that  negative    one,   that   mere  absence   of  a   concep- 


LA  TIN  SUBJUNCTIVE.  2 1  / 

tion  of  reality,  which  we  noticed  at  the  outset.  In  many  cases, 
indeed,  it  might  be  argued,  not  without  plausibility,  that  the 
positive  elem.ents  were  wholly  effaced,  and  that  the  subjunc 
tive  expressed  the  action  simply  as  divested  of\all  conception 
of  reality.  This  is  Baumlein's  theory  of  the  Greek  optative  ; 
but  I  have  never  been  able  to  satisfy  myself  that  the  uses  of 
the  optative  could  be  accounted  for  with  that  factor  only. 

We  have  thus  endeavored  to  find  a  probable  (or,  at  least, 
a  natural)  genetic  development  for  the  uses  of  the  Latin  sub 
junctive,  starting  from  what  seems  to  be  the  historic  starting- 
point,  in  the  idea  of  wishing.  If  we  look  at  the  actual  uses 
as  they  lie  before  us,  irrespective  of  origin  or  order  of  de 
velopment,  the  prevailing  notion  which  links  them  together 
appears  to  be  that  of  tendency.  The  subjunctive  expresses 
an  action  as  that  toward  which  there  is  a  tendency,  either  in 
the  conscious  desires,  aims,  expectations  of  some  person,  or 
in  unconscious  bearings  of  circumstances  known  or  unknown 
to  the  speaker.  We  have  in  English  a  form  of  expression 
in  which  this  idea  of  tendency  is  very  explicitly  and  sharply 
presented  ;  it  consists  of  the  substantive  verb  followed  by  the 
infinitive  with  to :  as,  they  are  to  go,  that  is,  they  are  toward 
going.  But  this  differs  in  two  points  at  least  from  the  Latin 
subjunctive  :  it  is  confined  in  use  to  objective  or  outward 
tendencies,  and  it  contains  (where  the  substantive  verb  is  in 
the  indicative  mode) — a  conception  of  reality. 

It  is  often  difficult  to  say,  in  regard  to  particular  uses  of  the 
mode,  where  they  belong  in  this  scale  of  development,  to 
which  of  these  categories  we  ought  to  refer  them.  Thus, 
the  so-called  subjunctive  of  deliberation,  or  of  deliberative 
questions.  We  might  think  of  it  as  a  potential  subjunctive, 
and  so  Professor  Harkness  gives  it  in  his  Grammar.  There 
may  be  no  objection  to  this,  considered  as  a  practical  ar 
rangement.  But  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  the  subjunc 
tive  here  is  in  reality  one  of  wish  or  aim.  The  real  question 
in  such  cases  is  what  the  person  addressed  would  like  or 
would  counsel  :  quid  faciamus,  '  what  would  you  have  us  do, 
what  would  you  propose  or  advise  that  we  should  do  ?  '  A 
visney  or  something  of  that  kind,  may  always  be  supplied. 
Tofaciatis  used  without  interrogation,  in  the  sense  '  may  you 


2 1 8  LA  TIN  SUJ3  JUNCTIVE. 

do,'  '  you  are  (by  my  desire)  to  do,'  corresponds  the  ques 
tion  quid  faciamus,  l  what  may  we  do,'  '  what  are  we  (by 
your  desire)  to  do  ?  '  On  the  other  hand,  in  the  dependent 
question,  and  in  the  so-called  intermediate  clauses  of  the 
oratio  obliqna,  the  subjunctive  must  be  referred  to  the  last 
head,  as  expressing  possible  event.  What  in  the  oratio  recta 
is  viewed  as  a  reality  becomes  a  possibility  in  the  obliqua. 
By  the  first  speaker  it  is  conceived  as  a  reality  ;  to  the  second 
speaker  (the  quoter),  who  sees  it  only  as  a  conception  of  the 
first,  the  character  of  reality  falls  away  ;  to  him  it  is  a  mere 
possibility.  Thus  the  question  "  when  did  they  come,"  di 
rectly  put,  is  equivalent  to  '  they  came  :  tell  me  when  :  let 
me  know  the  time  of  what  I  view  as  a  real  coming.'  But  the 
indirect  form,  "  my  friend  asked  when  they  came,"  is  equiva 
lent  to  '  my  friend  asked  the  time  of  their  coming — a  coming 
which  I  have  nothing  to  say  about  :  however  real  to  him,  it 
is  only  a  may-be  to  me.'  Again,  the  subjunctive  of  cause  is 
probably  to  be  explained  from  the  idea  of  result.  Qua 
quum  it  a  slut,  '  the  case  being  such  that  tfaese  things  are  so,' 
'  as  circumstances  tend  to  these  results,'  it  follows,  etc.  The 
most  difficult  use  of  the  mode  is  that  of  the  imperfect  and 
pluperfect  subjunctive  with  quuui,  'when  : '  as  in  quum  Ccesar 
vcnirct  in  Galliam.  Though  this  construction  is  often  used 
where  the  two  facts,  expressed  by  the  principal  and  the  de 
pendent  sentence,  are  connected  only  in  time,  it  may  be  con 
jectured  that  this  was  not  always  so,  that  the  subjunctive 
with  quum  was  at  first  used  where  the  facts  had  a  causal  con 
nection,  and  that  the  merely  temporal  use  grew  out  of  a 
gradual  and  not  strictly  proper  extension  of  that  form.  Not 
that  quum  vcnirct  became  absolutely  equivalent  to  quum 
vcnit :  the  conception  of  reality  was  still  wanting  to  the 
former ;  quum  vcnirct  was  nearly  equivalent  to  tcmpore  ve- 
niendi.  But  I  think  that  it  stands  by  itself  among  the  uses 
of  the  subjunctive;  and  that  it  is  not  to  be  explained  by  a 
natural  development  of  meaning  in  the  mode,  but  rather  by 
the  extension  of  a  form  beyond  the  sense  which  properly 
belonged  to  it — the  form  which  was  properly  employed  for  a 
causal  connection  was  improperly  extended  to  cases  where 
there  was  only  a  temporal  connection. 


LA  TIN  SUB  JUNCTIVE.  2 1 9 

I  will  notice,  further,  what  seems  to  me  a  very  unfortunate 
feature  in  Madvig's  treatment  of  the  Latin  subjunctive.  Not 
content  with  the  four  tenses  usually  recognized  in  this  mode, 
he  has  given  it  two  more,  a  future  and  a  future  perfect.  His 
future  subjunctive  is  a  periphrastic  form  composed  of  the 
future  participle  with  the  present  subjunctive  of  the  verb  '  to 
be  :  '  amatiirus  sim.  His  futur  eperfect  is  a  mere  repetition  of 
the  perfect ;  amaverim  is  given  twice  over,  once  as  perfect, 
and  again  as  future  perfect.  These  tenses,  however,  he  con 
fines  to  the  active  voice  :  to  the  subjunctive  passive  he  allows 
neither  perfect  nor  future  perfect.  But  if  amaverim  is  two 
tenses  in  one  form,  why  not  amatus  sim  also  ?  If  amaverim 
has  the  two  uses  *  I  may  now  have  loved '  and  (  I  may  here 
after  have  loved,'  the  passive  amatus  sim  is  susceptible  of  the 
two  similar  uses,  '  I  may  now  have  been  loved  '  and  '  I  may 
hereafter  have  been  loved.'  If  we  recognize  amaverim  as  a 
future  perfect  in  the  active  voice,  there  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  recognize  amatus  sim  as  a  future  perfect  in  the 
passive.  That  Madvig  has  not  done  so,  that  he  has  failed  to 
give  a  future  perfect  subjunctive  in  the  passive,  is  probably 
because  he  did  not  see  what  to  do  for  a  future  subjunctive  in 
that  voice.  He  could  not  find  anything  which  would  cor 
respond  to  his  future  subjunctive  active  amatiirus  sim.  There 
is  no  future  participle  of  the  passive  voice  :  amandus  sim 
would  convey  an  idea  of  necessity.  But  if  we  leave  the 
passive  out  of  view,  and  look  only  to  the  active,  the  scheme 
is  misleading.  It  *is  right  in  recognizing  a  double  use  of 
amaverim,  as  a  present  and  a  future  of  complete  action.  But 
it  covers  up  the  fact,  which  is  of  great  importance  in  the 
theory  of  the  mode,  that  the  form  amcm  is  similarly  double 
in  use  :  it  means  not  only  *  I  may  now  love,'  but  also  '  I  may 
hereafter  love.'  If  amaverim  is  repeated  for  a  perfect  and  a 
future  perfect,  amem  ought  equally  to  be  repeated  for  a 
present  and  a  future.  -The  student  of  Madvig's  Grammar 
would  naturally  think  that  amem  had  only  the  present  sense, 
1  I  may  now  love,'  and  that  the  corresponding  future  '  I  may 
love  hereafter  '  must  be  expressed  by  amatiirus  sim.  But  in 
fact  amatiirus  sim  has  not  precisely  this  meaning.  It  differs 
from  amem  used  in  future  sense  just  as  amatiirus  sum  differs 


220  LA  TIN  SUBJUNCTIVE. 

from  the  future  indicative  amabo.  The  truth  is  that 
amaturus  sum  is  a  present  indicative  of  prospective  (or  con 
templated)  action  ;  and  in  like  manner,  amaturus  cram  is  an 
imperfect  indicative,  and  amaturus  simt  amaturus  cssem  are 
present  and  imperfect  subjunctive,  of  prospective  action. 
We  have  a  full  series  of  these  tense-forms  for  prospective 
action.  To  take  one  of  them,  as  Madvig  does,  and  treat  it, 
without  reference  to  the  others,  as  belonging  to  the  same 
series  with  amem,  arnarcm,  amavcrim,  etc.,  can  hardly  be  a 
justifiable  procedure. 


XIII. 

ON  THE  ORIGIN  OF   THE   ENGLISH    POSSESSIVE 

CASE. 

1866. 

A 'FAVORITE  poet  declares,  in  a  passage  often  quoted, 
that  "  Error,  wounded,  writhes  with  pain,  and  dies 
among  his  worshippers."  The  saying  has  its  truth,  doubtless, 
when  taken  in  reference  to  the  grand  results  of  world-history  ; 
but  it  gives  no  hint  of  the  extreme  tenacity  of  life  which 
error  often  shows,  or  of  its  frequent  strange  revivals  after 
seeming  death.'  The  champion  of  science  cannot  presume 
that  an  error,  once  crushed,  will  never  raise  its  head  again  : 
too  often  he  is  forced  to  pe.rsonate  the  comic  hero  of  whom  it 
was  said  that  "  thrice  he  slew  the  slain." 

These  remarks  are  suggested  by  a  recent  essay  on  the  s  of 
the  English  possessive — the  s  seen  in  horse  s  head,  Mary's 
book,  children's  dress,  and  the  like.  Its  author's  object  is  to 
infuse  new  life  into  the  old  theory  which  viewed  this  s  as  a 
remnant  of  the  possessive  pronoun  his  ;  so  that  the  examples 
just  given  would  be  forms,  abridged  and  altered  in  rapid 
utterance,  of  what  was  originally  horse  HIS  head,  Mary  HIS 
book,  children  HIS  dress.  As  the  essay  referred  to  appears  in 
a  place  so  respectable  as  the  published  Transactions  of  the 
Philological  Society  (London,  1864),  as  .it  occupies  nearly 
ninety  pages  of  that  journal,  and  is  written  with  evident  labor 
and  considerable  appearance  of  learning,  it  may  be  worth 
while  to  spend  some  little  time  in  reviewing  its  positions  and 
arguments.  In  one  respect,  as  an  instance  of  authorship  in 
advanced  years,  it  may  almost  be  reckoned  among  the  curiosi 
ties  of  literature.  Its  author — "James  Manning,  Q.A.S., 
Recorder  of  Oxford  " — describes  himself  as  writing  in  the 
eighty-third  year  of  his  age.  It  should  seem  that,  after  a  life 
of  active  labor  in  his  profession  as  a  lawyer,  he  has  found  a 
pleasant  and  honorable  recreation  for  his  old  age  in  philologi- 


222  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

cal  studies.  That  these  studies  have  excited  a  keen  interest 
in  his  mind  must  be  apparent  to  any  reader  of  this  essay. 
He  discusses  his  theme — perhaps  we  should  rather  say,  he 
pleads  his  cause — with  all  the  warmth  and  earnestness  of  an 
advocate.  His  materials  of  argument  and  illustration  could 
not  have  been  collected  without  considerable  expenditure  of 
time  and  effort.  He  has  looked  into  the  grammar  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  and  even  into  that  of  the  Mceso-Gothic.  To 
the  grammar  of  the  popular  dialects  of  Germany  he  has  given 
a  good  deal  of  attention  ;  and  still  more  to  the  Semi-Saxon 
form  of  our  own  language,  as  represented  in  the  two  texts  of 
Layamon's  Brut,  and  to  the  Old  English  which  followed  it. 
It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  his  knowledge  is  far  from 
sufficient  ;  and  that  he  has  fallen  into  numerous  misappre 
hensions  and  errors,  from  which  more  thorough  study  would 
have  saved  him. 

Mr.  Manning's  thesis  may  be  stated  thus  :  The  old  inflec 
tional  genitive  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  was  given  up  in  the  I3th 
century  ;  it  was  almost  wholly  discarded  at  that  period  ;  and 
was  replaced  in  most  of  its  uses  by  the  preposition  of — which 
preposition,  by  the  way,  he  strangely  designates  as  "  Scan 
dinavian  ;  "  forgetting  that  it  is  found,  not  only  in  the  earliest 
Anglo-Saxon,  but  also  in  the  Mceso-Gothic  af,  and  even  in 
the  High  German  ab ;  that  it  belongs,  therefore,  to  the 
whole  Teutonic  class  of  languages,  and  not  specially  to  the 
Scandinavian  branch  of  it.  He  maintains  (I  say)  that  the 
Anglo-Saxon  genitive,  discarded  in  the  I3th  century,  was  re 
placed  in  most  of  its  uses  by  the  preposition  of  •  but  that  for 
the  possessive  relation  there  sprung  up  at  the  same  time  a 
different  form  of  expression,  a  form  in  which  the  name  of 
the  possessor  was  followed  by  the  name  of  the  thing  pos 
sessed,  with  the  pronoun  his  interposed  between  them  :  thus, 
horse  his  head.  This  interposed  his  he  describes  as  sex-less  and 
number-less,  denoting  mere  possession,  without  distinguish 
ing  either  the  gender  or  the  number  of  the  possessors  ;  so  as 
to  be  used  with  perfect  facility  and  propriety  in  such  expres 
sions  as  Mary  his  book,  children  his  dress.  From  this  his  the 
h  was  naturally  dropped  in  rapid  utterance,  leaving  YJ/  and 
in  time  the  vowel  of  is  was  generally  suppressed  in  pronun- 


ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE.  223 

elation,  leaving   a   mere  s,  which,   since   the    i6th  century,  is 
written  with  the  apostrophe. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  prevailing,  and  (as  we  think)  the 
correct  view  of  this  subject  may  be  stated  thus.  The  old 
inflectional  genitive  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  has  never  been  given 
up  ;  it  has  never  at  any  period  ceased  to  be  in  use  ;  it  has 
come  down  by  uninterrupted  tradition  from  the  earliest  times 
to  the  present  day.  But  it  has  undergone  extensive  changes  in 
use  and  function.  In  the  Gothic — and  so,  doubtless,  in  the 
primitive  Teutonic — s  was  the  universal  ending  of  the  geni 
tive  singular,  in  all  genders  and  for  every  kind  of  stem.  The 
Anglo-Saxon  preserves  this  s  in  vowel-stems  of  the  masculine 
and  neuter  genders,  but  has  lost  it  in  all  feminines  and  in  all 
;/-stems  :  in  fact,  as  regards  the  s  of  the  genitive  singular,  the 
Anglo-Saxon  stands  on  much  the  same  footing  as  the  modern 
German.  But  in  the  early  English,  we  find  the  s  extended 
again  to  the  feminines  and  the  /^-sterns  (these  last  losing  their ' 
n)  ;  so  that  s  becomes  once  more  the  universal  ending  of  the 
genitive  singular  :  although  in  some  few  words  of  common 
occurrence — such  as  fader,  vwder,  brother,  ladi,  saivle 
('soul'),  etc. — the  genitive  without  s,  which  belonged  to 
-them  in  Anglo-Saxon,  maintained  itself,  at  least  in  occa 
sional  use,  down  to  the  time  of  Chaucer,  or  even  later  still. 
The  s-  of  the  genitive,  indeed,  extended  itself  still  more 
widely,  and  passed  into  the  plural,  making,  for  instance, 
men's,  children's,  as  genitives  of  men,  children.  At  the  same 
time,  there  is  a  change  in  position  and  in  function  :  the  geni 
tive  can  no  longer  stand  after  the  word  on  which  it  depends, 
but  must  always  come  before  it  ;  and  it  no  longer  expresses 
the  same  variety  of  relations  as  before,  but  is  now,  in  the 
main,  a  possessive  case.  On  this  latter  point  we  add  a  few 
words  of  explanation.  The  Anglo-Saxon  genitive,  like  the 
Greek  and  Latin,  expresses  a  great  variety  of  relations 
between  one  substantive  and  another — in  general,  all  the 
relations  which  are,  or  may  be,  expressed  by  our  of.  The 
English  genitive,  on  the  other  hand,  is  called  a  possessive, 
and  properly  so;  for  this  is  its  leading  use,  and  "a  potiori 
nomcn  fit."  But  Mr.  Manning  is  clearly  wrong  when  he 
contends  that  our  case  in  s  always  carries  a  possessive  mean- 


224  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

ing.  In  the  phrase  (i  in  consequence  of  the  prisoner's  being 
absent,"  he  holds  that  the  "  prisoner "  is  thought  of  as  a 
possessor,  and  the  "  being  absent"  as  a  thing  in  his  posses 
sion.  This  is,  evidently,  forced  and  unnatural.  The  truth  is, 
that  the  English  case  in  s  has  not  only  the  possessive  use  of 
the  Anelo-Saxon  genitive,  but  the  other  uses  which  stand 

o  o- 

nearest  to  this.  Thus  it  is  constantly  employed  to  denote 
connection  in  family,  or  state,  or  society :  as  in  John's 
brother,  Henry  s  neighbor,  England's  queen,  the  king's  ene 
mies — in  old  English  we  find  even  the  king' s  traitors.  Mr. 
Manning  might,  perhaps,  argue  that  to  say  the  king  s  ene 
mies  implies  that  "the  king  has  enemies,"  and  expresses, 
therefore,  a  possessive  relation.  But  the  verb  have  is  a  word 
of  very  general  meaning,  which  can  be  used  in  a  multitude  of 
cases  where  there  is  no  possession,  properly  so  called,  and 
sometimes  even  where  our  possessive  case  would  be  inad 
missible.  Thus,  every  apple  has  a  half,  but  we  cannot  say 
"  every  apple's  half."  Still  further,  our  case  in  s  is  used  to 
express  the  subject  of  an  action  or  an  attribute  :  as  in  cow 
ard' s  fear,  God's  love,  the  prisoner's  being  absent.  But 
relations  which  stand  at  a  wider  distance  from  the  possessive 
cannot  be  expressed  in  this  way.  Thus,  the  objective  rela 
tion  :  we  do  not  say  God's  fear,  but  the  fear  of  God  ;  not 
the  child's  guardianship,  but  the  guardianship  of  the  cliild. 
We  do  indeed  say  England's  ruler,  the  child's  guardian  ;  but 
here  it  is  political  or  social  connection  that  is  thought  of, 
and  not  the  object  of  an  action.  In  like  manner,  our  case 
in  s  cannot  be  used  as  a  genitive  partitive  (not  women's 
loveliest,  but  loveliest  of  women]  ;  nor  as  a  genitive  of 
material  (not  leather's  girdle,  but  girdle  of  leather)  ;  nor  as  a 
genitive  of  designation  (not  Italy' s  kingdom,  but  kingdom  of 
Italy}. 

We  have  thus  described  the  view  commonly  taken  by 
grammarians  and  philologists  in  reference  to  the  English  pos 
sessive  in  s  :  it  is,  that  this  case  is  derived  by  uninterrupted 
tradition,  though  not  without  important  changes  in  use  and 
function,  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive  in  s.  Mr.  Manning 
admits  that  this  is  the  established  view7  :  but  he  considers  it 
to  be  only  a  long-received  and  deeply-rooted  error,  which 


ENGLISH  POSSESSI VE  CASE.  225 

must  be  dislodged  from  the  minds  of  men  in  order  to  make 
room  for  the  admission  of  the  truth.  He  therefore  assails  it 
with  a  strenuous  polemic,  bringing  forward  a  great  array  of 
objections,  which  he  numbers  from  I  to  n.  In  these,  how 
ever,  there  is  some  repetition,  and  we  may  reduce  them  all 
under  a  few  heads. 

First,  he  contends  that,  if  the  English  possessive  were  the  same 
with  the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive,  it  would  be  confined,  as  the  lat 
ter  is,  to  masculines  and  neuters,  and  to  a  part  only  of  these  ;  it 
would  be  excluded  from  all  feminines,  from  all  //-stems,  and 
from  all  plurals.  But  surely,  there  is  nothing  more  common 
in  the  history  of  language  than  to  find  an  inflection  extended 
beyond  the  class  of  words  that  originally  had  it,  and  applied 
to  other  classes  that  originally  excluded  it.  Thus  the  plural 
of  nouns  in  Spanish  ends  in  s  ;  originally  this  s  belonged  only 
to  masculines  and  feminines  :  as  libros,  '  books,'  Lat.  ace. 
plur.  libros ;  mesas,  'tables,'  Lat.  vicnsas  ;  virtudcs,  'vir 
tues,'  Lat.  virtutes — but  it  has  been  extended  to  neuters  also  : 
pomos,  'apples,'  Lat.  poma  /  rcynos,  'kingdoms,'  Lat.  rcgna. 
The  Proven9al  dialect  of  the  Romance  has  preserved  the 
Latin  s  of  the  nominative  singular — as  in  ans,  'year,'  Lat. 
annus—  but  has  extended  it  to  words  which  were  without 
it  in  the  Latin — as  librcs,  '  book,'  Lat.  liber — and  even  to 
neuters — as  aurs,  '  gold,'  Lat.  aurum  ;  eels,  '  sky,'  Lat. 
cce linn  •  cors,  'heart,'  Lat.  cor;  flums,  'river,'  Lat.  jluincn. 
The  ancient  Greek  itself,  in  many  adjectives  of  the  vowel-de 
clension,  has  extended  the  masculine  form  to  the  feminine  : 
thus,  770-1^09,  '  quiet,'  which  is  properly  masculine,  is  used 
also  as  feminine.  That  this  is  an  innovation  of  the  Greek 
appears  from  a  comparison  of  the  Sanskrit,  Latin,  and  Gothic, 
in  which  —  and,  doubtless,  in  the  Indo-European  before 
them— the  adjective  tf-stcms  always  have  a  distinct  form  for 
the  feminine. 

Secondly,  it  is  objected  that,  if  the  English  possessive  were 
the  same  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive,  it  would,  of  neces 
sity,  have  all  the  same  functions,  and  would  be  capable  of 
serving  for  all  uses  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive.  But  again, 
it  is  a  common  thing  in  the  history  of  language  to  find  an  in 
flectional  form  undergoing  some  change  of  function,  giving 
15 


226  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

up  a  sense  which  it  once  had,  or  taking  on  a  sense  which  it 
had  not.  An  extreme  instance  of  this  kind  is  seen  in  the 
Greek  present  infinitive  passive  (e.  g.  ypd^eo-Oai^  '  to  be 
written'),  which,  in  the  modern  Greek,  according  to  the 
Grammar  of  Professor  Sophocles,  is  used  only  after  the  verb 
Oe\w,  to  form  a  continued  future  passive  :  thus  6e\ei 
ypd(j)e(T0at,,  '  it  will  be  written,'  or,  more  exactly,  '  it  will  be  in 
process  of  being  written.'  Here  the  identity  of  form  with 
the  ancient  <ypd^>ea9ai  is  beyond  all  question;  but  to  what  a 
minimum  has  shrunk  the  widely  extended  use  of  the  old  in 
finitive  !  The  Latin  perfect  indicative  has  two  uses,  which 
are  often  distinguished  as  definite  and  indefinite  :  thus, 
posucrunt  may  mean  either  '  they  have  placed  '  (equivalent  to 
the  Greek  perfect),  or  '  they  placed  '  (equivalent  to  the  Greek 
aorist).  But  in  the  Romance  languages,  the  corresponding 
form  has  lost  the  first  of  these  uses,  retaining  only  the  last  : 
in  Spanish,  for  instance,  pusicron,  which  represents  the  Latin 
posucrunt,  means  only  '  they  placed  ;  '  for  '  they  have  placed,' 
the  Spanish,  like  the  English,  uses  the  verb  have  with  a  pas 
sive  participle  :  thus,  Jian  pucsto.  The  Indo-European  pres 
ent  tense,  as  we  find  it  in  the  old  Teutonic  languages,  has 
taken  on  an  additional  use,  and  serves  both  as  a  present  and 
a  future  :  thus  the  Gothic  gibitJi  means  both  *  he  gives  '  and 
'  he  will  give.'  In  the  modern  Teutonic  languages,  this  ad 
ditional  use  is  given  up,  and  the  tense  has  become,  what  it 
was  at  first,  a  present  only.  And  yet  the  t/i  of  our  givetli, 
or  the  s  of  our  gives,  is  unquestionably  the  same  ending  as  the 
th  of  Gothic  ^vY;////,  the  t  of  Latin  dat,  and  the  ti  of  Indo-Eu 
ropean  daddti. 

Closely  connected  with  the  objection  we  are  considering  is 
another  which  has  been  urged  by  Professor  Goldstiicker  in  a 
review  of  Mr.  Manning's  essay  (see  "  The  Reader  ;  "  London, 
Sept.  24,  1864).  It  is  impossible,  he  maintains,  that  an  in 
flexional  form,  like  the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive  in  s,  should 
maintain  itself  in  use  alongside  of  a  prepositional  expression 
—viz.  of  with  the  accusative — which  could  be  used  instead 
of  it  everywhere  with  precisely  the  same  meaning.  But  to 
this  impossibility  we  may  oppose  a  reality  offered  by  the 
Latin  language.  Here  the  old  inflectional  locative  did 


ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE.  227 

maintain  itself  in  certain  words,  as  a  designation  of  the  place 
'  where,'  alongside  of  a  prepositional  form — viz.  in  with  the 
ablative — which  could  be  used  instead  of  it  everywhere  with 
precisely  the  same  meaning.  Examples  of  this  old  locative 
are  Ronite,  originally  Romai,  '  at  Rome,'  Corinthi,  originally 
Corinthdi)  'at  Corinth,'  rnri,  'in  the  country,'  domi,  'at 
home,'  etc.  It  has  become  greatly  restricted  in  use,  being 
nearly  confined  to  names  of  towns,  and  among  these  to  words 
of  the  first  or  second  declension.  Other  words  used  to  desig 
nate  the  place  '  where'  are  put  in  the  ablative  with  in,  as  in  pro- 
vincia,  in  situ ;  and  even  names  of  towns  of  the  first  or 
second  declension  are  susceptible  of  the  same  construction. 
True,  it  is  not  idiomatic  to  say  in  Roma  /  but  when  an  ap- 
positive  (as  urbs)  is  added,  in  urbc  Roma  is  the  regular  form. 
Even  in  these  points  our  English  usage  presents  a  curious 
analogy.  We  do  not  say  this  is  the  house  of  Jack  ;  the  form 
is  intelligible,  but  nobody  uses  it ;  we  say  this  is  Jack's  house  : 
but  with  an  appositive  added,  this  is  the  house  of  my  cousin 
Jack  is  a  familiar  form  of  expression. 

Thirdly,  the  ending  s  of  the  English  possessive  is  used  in 
various  connections  and  constructions  where,  in  Mr.  Man 
ning's  opinion,  it  is  impossible  to  explain.it  as  a  genitive  case- 
inflection,  or  indeed  in  any  way  except  as  the  pronoun  his, 
Thus  in  Ccesars  crossing  the  Rubicon,  he  asserts,  with  much 
confidence,  that  no  inflected  language  could  use  its  genitive 
to  translate  Ccesar's ;  that,  instead  of  a  genitive,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  use  some  expression  with  instrumental  meaning. 
But  surely,  there  are  scholars  enough  in  his  own  city  of 
Oxford  who  could  have  told  him  that  77  Kaiaapo^  8id/3ao-is 
rov  'PovfMfcwvos  is  at  once  idiomatic  Greek  and  an  exact 
rendering  of  Ccesar  s  crossing  the  Rubicon.  The  Ka/<rapo? 
and  Cczsar  s  in  these  expressions  are  not,  indeed,  true  posses- 
sives,  as  he  holds  in  reference  to  the  latter  ;  they  are  genitives 
used  to  denote  the  subject  of  an  action.  Again,  he  finds  a 
more  reasonable  cause  of  difficulty  in  forms  such  as  JoJui  and 
Walter  s  house,  husband  and  wife's  children  :  the  latter,  he 
says,  if  wife's  were  a  real  genitive,  would  be  like  saying  in 
Latin  vir  et  uxoris  libcri,  which,  of  course,  would  give  a  dif 
ferent  meaning,  viz.  '  the  husband  and  the  children  of  the 


228  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

wife.'  But  would  this  be  further  out  of  the  way  than  vir  et 
nxor  ejns  liberi  ('  husband  and  wife,  the  children  of  that  one  '), 
the  Latin  form  which  would  correspond  to  Mr.  Manning's 
theory?  He  has  himself  suggested  the  true  explanation, 
when  he  refers  to  ordinals  such  as  three  and  twentieth,  where 
the  formative  ending  ctJi  is  applied  to  the  copulative  three  and 
twenty  taken  as  one  complex  whole.  He  docs  not  deny  that 
three  and  twentieth  is  good  English,  though  tres  et  viccsimus 
would  be  very  poor  Latin.  He  refers  also  to  similar  forms  of 
expression  in  other  languages,  as  half-  und  hoffnungslos  in 
German,  literally  '  help-  and  hopeless,'  i.  c.  '  helpless  and 
hopeless  ; '  fcliz-  y  valerosamente  in  Spanish,  literally  '  fortu 
nate-  and  valorously,  i.  c\  'fortunately  and  valorously.'  Yet 
again,  he  finds  a  difficulty  in  such  expressions  as  King  of 
England 's  croiun  :  if  our  possessive  were  a  real  genitive,  we 
should  have  to  say  (he  thinks)  Kings  crown  of  England,  or 
crown  Kings  of  England.  He  will  not  admit  that  King  of 
England  can  be  treated  as  one  complex  whole,  receiving  in 
flection  at  the  end  ;  though  it  is  hard  to  see  how  this  would 
differ  in  principle  from  the  formation  just  noticed  in  three  and 
twentieth.  Can  any  one  say  that  in  three  and  twenty  the  two 
numerals  are  more  closely  connected  by  and  than  the  two 
substantives  in  King  of  England  are  connected  by  of?  On 
the  contrary,  it  would  be  more  plausible  to  regard  the  prepo 
sition  as  forming  the  closer  connection.  It  is  to  be  observed 
that  this  formation  is  not  readily  used  except  when  we  are 
accustomed  to  hear  the  combination— the  two  substantives 
connected  by  of—  as  the  recognized  name  of  some  well-under 
stood  object  :  thus  we  say  the  King  of  England's  crown,  but 
hardly  a  bishop  of  the  church's  income,  rather  the  income  of  a 
bishop  of  the  church  ;  hardly  the  men  of  property's  influence, 
rather  the  influence  of  the  men  of  property.  We  observe  also 
that  examples  are  not  wholly  wanting  of  other  endings  applied 
in  the  same  way:  thus,  from  Church  of  England  is  formed, 
at  least  in  popular  parlance,  if  not  in  the  language  of  books, 
the  expression  Church-of-Englandism,  for  which  assuredly 
no  one  would  think  of  substituting  Chnrchism  of  England. 
There  remains  still  another  form  of  expression—seen  in  the 
examples,  he  is  a  servant  of  viy  brother's,  I  am  going  to  try 


ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE.  229 

that  new  horse  of  my  neighbor's — which  Mr.  Manning  regards 
as  irreconcilable  with  the  genitive  origin  of  our  possessive. 
The  preposition  of  (he  says)  requires  an  objective  case,  and, 
according  to  his  explanation,  would  have  it  even  here  ;  a 
servant  of  my  brother  s  being  equivalent  to  a  servant  of  my 
brother  HIS,  in  which  brother  is  an  objective  case,  and  his  a 
possessive  agreeing  with  servant.  It  cannot  be  denied  that 
there  is  some  difficulty  in  explaining  this  usage.  Lowth 
treated  the  genitive  here  as  having  a  partitive  construction,  and 
depending  on  a  word  understood  :  a  servant  of  my  brother's 
he  viewed  as  standing  for  a  servant  of  [i.  e.  of  the  number  of] 
my  brothers  servants  :  the  latter  was  the  full  logical  form, 
but  the  repetition  in  it  of  the  word  servant  was  unnecessary 
and  disagreeable,  and  was  therefore  dispensed  with.  To  this 
explanation  of  Lowth,  Mr.  Manning  objects  that  a  servant  of 
my  brother  s  does  not  of  necessity  mean  one  of  my  brother's 
servants  :  if  my  brother  has  but  one  servant,  and  I  am  aware 
of  the  fact,  I  may  still  say  with  propriety  "  the  person  whom 
you  saw  was  a  servant  of  my  brother  s."  Or,  to  take  a  clearer 
case,  a  man  might  say  "  that  wife  of  my  son's  is  always  teas 
ing  me,"  without  in  the  least  accusing  his  son  of  bigamy  (or 
ofBrigham-y,  if  one  may  coin  a  Mormon  name  for  a  Mormon 
institution).  It  is  possible,  however,  to  modify  Lowth's  ex 
planation  so  as  to  escape  the  force  of  this  objection.  We 
may  regard  the  possessive,  when  thus  used,  as  depending — at 
least  in  many  cases — not  on  a  particular  word  repeated  from 
what  precedes,  but  on  a  general  indeterminate  conception  of 
'  that  which  is  possessed.'  In  speaking  of  one  particular  thing, 
I  may  say  "  it  is  my  brother's  house  ; "  of  a  second,  "  it  is  my 
brother's  servant  ;"  of  a  third,  "  it  is  my  brother's  heart ;  "  and 
so  on.  Of  course,  there  are  a  great  multitude  of  things  which 
can  be  put  after  my  brother  s  in  such  a  sentence.  Conceive 
now  the  aggregate,  the  collective  totality,  of  these  things,  and 
you  have  the  general,  indeterminate  conception  of  which  we 
are  speaking.  It  is  an  element  of  some  importance  in  the 
theory  of  syntax.  In  the  sentence  "deal  as  thou  wilt  with 
him  and  his,"  the  subject  of  the  possessive  his  can  only  be 
this  general  conception  :  '  his  belongings,'  '  the  sum  of  all 
those  things  of  which  each  one  can  be  called  his* — such  is  the 


230  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

sense  of  the  expression.  If  we  say  "  all  mine  is  thine,"  it  is 
plain  that  both  possessives  have  this  same  indeterminate  sub 
ject.  If,  then,  we  say  "  all  mine  is  my  brother's,"  it  is  plain 
that  the  possessive  case  brother  s  must  depend  on  the  same 
indeterminate  subject  as  the  possessive  pronoun  mine.  Now 
it  is  easy  and  natural  to  apply  the  same  explanation  to  such 
forms  as  this  soul  of  mine,  thai  wife  of  my  brother  s.  There 
is  a  greater  difficulty  in  explaining  that  friend  of  hers,  of  ours, 
of  yours,  of  theirs,  where  we  should  expect  of  her,  our,  your, 
their.  It  is  known,  however,  that  these  forms— hers,  ours, 
etc.  —are  not  very  ancient ;  and  it  can  hardly  be  doubted 
that,  from  being  already  accustomed  to  hear  and  to  say  it  is 
JoJui  s,  it  is  Jllctry's,  it  is  my  cousin's,  it  is  tJic  Prince  s,  and  the 
like,  men  were  led  by  false  analogy  to  say  it  is  hers  for  the 
earlier  //  is  /ier,  it  is  ours  for  /'/  is  our  •  and  in  like  manner, 
a  friend  of  hers  for  a  friend  of  her,  a  friend  of  ours  for  a 
friend  of  our,  etc.  There  are  very  few,  probably,  who  will 
think  it  more  plausible  to  explain  these  forms  as  Mr.  Manning 
does — that  is,  as  abridged  for  the  fuller  and  earlier  forms,  a 
friend  of  her  liis,  a  friend  of  our  his,  and  so  on. 

Such  are  Mr.  Manning's  objections  to  the  common  view  of 
our  possessive  case.  It  need  hardly  be  said  that  they  arc  not 
decisive  against  it.  They  do  not  require  its  falsity.  The  ut 
most  we  can  say  is  that,  if  another  view  were  strongly  sup 
ported  by  positive  proof,  these  objections  might  be  used, 
with  more  or  less  effect,  to  clear  the  ground  for  its  reception. 
Positive  proof  for  his  own  thesis  Mr.  Manning  seeks  to  draw 
from  two  different  sources,  the  popular  dialects  of  Germany, 
and  the  early  English  writers.  What  he  has  collected  on  the 
German  dialects  forms  the  most  interesting  part  of  his  essay. 
He  shows,  in  fact,  that  a  form  of  expression  analogous  to 
John  Smith  /its  book  is  widely  current  in  them.  Thus  we  find 
in  popular  German  dcs  Vcttcrs  sein  Buck  ('  the  father's  his 
book  ')  ;  dcs  Goldschmieds  sein  Junge  ('  the  goldsmith's  his 
apprentice  ')  ;  dein  Aufwand  iibertrijft  den  Aufivand  des 
Farsten  seinen  ('  thy  expenditure  exceeds  that  of  the  Prince's 
his  ')  ;  Jcder  hatte  ein  Pferd  mitgcbracJit  ('  each  had  brought 
a  horse  with  him  '),  aber  des  einen  seins  war  blind  ('  but  the 
one's  his  was  blind  '),  des  andcrn  seins,  laJim  ('  the  other's 


ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE.  23  I 

/its,    lame  ').     Similar  expressions  are  met  with  even  in  re 
spectable   literary    works.      Schmidt,    in    his    Geschichte   der 
Dciitschcn,  says  des  Alfonsus  seine   MdcJitc  ('  Alphonso's  his 
powers  ').      Gellert  has  dies  Beiivort  ist  noch  mahlerischer  als 
Homers   seines  ('  this  epithet  is  yet  more    picturesque    than 
Homer's  his ').      It  will  be  observed   that  in  all  the  instances 
now  'given  the   name  of  the  possessor  is.  put  in  the  genitive. 
But  in  Upper  Germany  the  dative  is  used  instead  of  this  gen 
itive  :   as  in  dem   Vatcr  scin  Bitch  ('  to  the  father  his  book  ')  ; 
dcm  Goethe  scin  Gedicht  ('  to  Goethe  his  poem  ').     And  in  the 
popular  language  the  name  of  the   possessor  can   be  put  in 
the  same  case  as  the  thing  possessed  :   as,  fass  Kurdchcn  scin 
Hiit c hen  ('  take  little  Conrad  his  little  hat '),  where  Klirdchen 
and  Hiitchcn  are  both  in  the  accusative  ;   in  dem  Wolfe  seinem 
Lcib  ('  in  the  wolf  his  body  '),  where   Wolfe  and  Leib  are  both 
in  the  dative.      Mr.  Manning  speaks   of  these  forms   as  very 
old — apparently,    because    he    finds   them    in    the    brothers 
Grimm's  Kinder- und  hausmdhrchen.      I  cannot  see  that  he 
traces  them  farther  back  than  the  i/th  century.      He  gives  us 
no  example  of  them  from  the  Middle   High  German.     And 
there  is  one  thing    about  them  which  makes  strongly  against 
his  hypothesis.     When  the  possessor  is  -feminine  or  plural, 
sein  is  not  used,  but  ihr,  '  her,'  or  ihr,  'their,'  is  used  instead. 
Thus,  dcr  Mutter  ihr  Klcid  ('  the  mother's  her  gown  '),  der 
Kinder  ihr  Spielzeug  ('  the  children's  their  playthings  '),  den 
Eltcrn  Hire  Sorgen  ('  to  the  parents  their  cares  '),  Frau  Wolf 
Hire  Tochter  ('Mrs. Wolf's  her  daughters').      According  to 
the  same   analogy,  we  should  expect  in  English,  not  moiJier 
his  gown,  the  supposed  original  -of  our  mother's  gown,  but 
mother  her  gown  /  not  children  his  playthings,  the  supposed 
original  oi children's  playthings,  but  children  their  playthings. 
Mr.  Manning  feels  the  difficulty,  and  takes  great  pains  to  get 
rid  of  it.     He  shows  that,  in  the  old  German,  scin,  used  as  a 
reflexive,  could  mean   'her'    and  'their,'    and  that  it    some 
times  had   this  use  even  when  not  reflexive.      This   may  be 
true,  but  it  makes  against  his  cause  :   for  if  scin  was  capable 
of  meaning  'her'  and  'their,'  it  is  all  the  more  remarkable 
and  significant  that  people  never  said  dcr  Mutter  sein  Kleid, 
der  Kinder  sein  Spielzeug,  but  always  used  the  pronoun  ihr 


232  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

instead.  Mr.  Manning  goes  back  to  the  Mceso-Gothic,  where 
sein  is  always  reflexive,  and  shows  that,  as  such,  it  can  mean 
'  her'  and  '  their'  as  well  as  '  his.'  He  shows  that  the  Latin 
suns,  which  is  likewise  always  reflexive,  has  the  same  range 
of  meaning  ('his,'  'her,'  'their').  And  from  all  these  facts 
he  draws  the  conclusion  that  our  English  his  could  be  used 
with  equal  range  of  meaning — that  it  could  be  used .  for 
'  her '  and  'their.'  But  this  does  not  follow.  Suns  and 
scin  are  derived  from  a  root  sc,  svc,  sva,  '  self,'  which  denotes 
personality  without  gender  :  sinis  and  sciu  mean  '  belonging 
to  self,'  of  whatever  gender  or  number  that  "  self"  may  be. 
Not  so  the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive  /us.  It  is  true  that  the  root 
hi,  from  which  it  comes,  is  found  also  in  the  feminine  and  the 
plural  ;  but  then  it  always  shows  a  different  suffix  :  'belong 
ing  to  a  feminine  hi  '  is  expressed  by  hi-rc  (Gothic  Jii-zos)  ; 
'  belonging  to  a  plural/'/'  is  expressed  by  /ti-ra  (Gothic  lii-ze, 
Jii-zo}  ;  his  can  only  mean  '  belonging  to  a  singular  hi  of  the 
masculine  or  neuter  gender.'  Mr.  Manning  endeavors  to 
show7  that  the  forms  tie,  his,  Jiiin  are  pretty  promiscuously 
used  in  early  English,  for  the  feminine  as  well  as  for  the  mas 
culine  and  neuter.  This  is  true  as  to  he,  and  for  an  obvious 
reason:  the  accusative  singular  feminine  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
pronoun  was  hi,  and  in  early  English  this  accusative  (written 
as  hi  or  he)  is  sometimes  used  as  a  nominative,  instead  of  the 
regular  heo  (the  nominative  she  is  of  later  appearance).  But 
it  is  decidedly  not  true  as  to  his  and  liim.  Where  these  ap 
pear  to  be  feminine,  it  will  be  found  almost  always  that  they 
refer  to  such  words  as  wife,  maiden,  child,  and  others,  which 
are  neuter  in  Anglo-Saxon  and  Old  English.  Mr.  Manning- 
has  utterly  failed  to  show  that  his  was  ever  freely  applied  in 
reference  to  feminine  words.  That  it  was  ever  freely  used 
for  the  plural,  he  has  not  even  attempted  to  show.  And,  in 
deed,  he  is  evidently  aware  that  his  theory  is  open  to  objec 
tion  at  this  point;  he  sees  that,  for  some  at  least,  it  will  be 
hard  to  believe  that  his  was  employed  with  distinct  conscious 
ness  of  its  pronoun-character  in  such  expressions  as  the 
mother  his  gown,  the  children  his  playthings.  He  has  no 
trouble  in  believing  it  himself;  but  for  those  "  of  little  faith" 
who  cannot  do  so,  he  suggests  a  way  of  getting  over  the  dif- 


ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE.  233 

ficulty.  We  may  suppose  (he  says)  that  his  was  first  em 
ployed  in  this  manner  only  after  nouns  of  the  singular  num 
ber  and  of  the  masculine  or  neuter  gender  ;  that  it  was  con 
fined  for  a  time  to  such  expressions  as  the  father  Ins  book,  the 
horse  his  Jicad,  the  land  his  ruler  ;  that  in  these  it  gradually 
lost  its  force  as  a  separate  pronoun,  restricted  (like  other  pro 
nouns)  in  gender  and  number,  and  came  to  be  regarded  as  a 
mere  sign  of  the  possessive  relation  ;  and  that  in  this  condi 
tion  it  began  at  length  to  be  employed  after  feminities  and 
plurals.  The  process,  thus  hypothetically  traced,  is  certainly 
not  inconceivable.  Whether  it  was  a  historical  reality,  must 
be  determined  by  looking  at  the  literary  monuments  of  our 
language.  .  We  are  thus  referred  to  the  usage  of  the  Semi- 
Saxon  and  the  Early  English  writers.  In  these,  if  anywhere, 
we  must  find  the  convincing  proofs  for  the  theory  under  con 
sideration. 

In  this  field,  Mr.  Manning's  battle-horse  is  the  later  text  of 
Layamon's  Brut.  That  interesting  and  invaluable  relic  of  the 
Semi-Saxon  period — which  recites  the  mythic  history  of  Bri 
tain  in  a  poem  of  some  32,000  short  lines — is  preserved  in  two 
manuscripts.  The  earlier  manuscript  was  written  about  the 
year  1200.  It  shows  us  the  genitive  case  very  much  as  it 
stood  in  the  Anglo-Saxon,  in  form,  position,  and  function  ; 
with  some  restrictions  in  its  use,  but  still  to  a  great  extent 
the  same  thing.  In  the  later  manuscript,  written  (it  is  sup 
posed)  some  fifty  or  sixty  years  after  the  first,  we  find  con 
siderable  changes  in  this,  as  in  many  other  features  of  the 
language.  It  is  true  that  the  ending-^  of  the  genitive  is  not 
often  extended  to  words  that  did  not  have  it  in  the  Anglo- 
Saxon.  But  in  position,  the  case  is  no  longer  free  to  stand 
either  before  or  after  the  word  on  which  it  depends  :  with 
only  rare  exceptions  it  stands  first,  as  in  modern  English.  In 
function  also  it  is  restricted,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  same 
way  as  in  modern  English.  In  the  earlier  text,  Mr.  Manning 
tells  us  that  he  has  been  able  to  discover  only  two  instances  of 
the  possessive  pronoun  his  applied  as  a  substitute  for  the 
Anglo-Saxon  inflected  possessive  genitive.  Unfortunately  he 
has  omitted  to  specify  these  two  instances.  Sir  Frederic 
Madden,  the  learned  editor  of  Layamon,  says  that  the  geni- 


234  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

tive  expressed  by  his  rarely  occurs  in  the  earlier  text,  but  is 
found  in  two  places,  which  he  names  (vol.  i.,  pp.  175,  279). 
It  is  probable  that  these  are  the  two  instances  spoken  of  by 
Mr.  Manning-.  But  any  one  who  looks  carefully  at  the  two 
passages  will  see  .that  in  neither  of  them  does  his  refer  to  the 
substantive  immediately  before  it ;  so  that  they  are  not  real 
instances  of  the  form  we  are  discussing.  But  whether  this 
form  does  or  does  not  occur  in  the  earlier  text,  there  is  no 
doubt  that  it  is  frequent  in  the  later.  Mr.  Manning  says  even 
that  "nearly  all  "  the  Anglo-Saxon  inflexional  genitives  of  the 
earlier  manuscript  become  pronominal  possessives  (i.e.  forms 
written  with  his  instead  of  -cs)  in  the  later.  This,  however, 
is  a  strange  exaggeration — unintentional,  doubtless,  but  not 
the  less  extraordinary.  I  have  run  over  the  first  9,000  lines, 
or  more  than  a  quarter  of  the  poem,  with  reference  to  this 
point.  From  proper  names  of  persons  I  have  noted,  in  all, 
forty-nine  genitives.  In  twenty-three  of  them  the  genitive 
is  expressed  by  his  :  these  are  all  masculine,  and  in  about 
half  the  name  ends  in  s.  In  twenty-one  instances  (four  of 
them  feminine  names)  we  have  the  inflected  genitive  in  s  :  in 
none  of  these  does  the  name  itself  end  in  s.  But  there  are 
five  instances  of  names  ending  in  s  which  are  used  without 
change  as  genitives,  the  inflexional  s  being  apparently  fused 
(as  it  often  is  now)  in  the  final  s  of  the  name. 

We  see,  then,  that  less  than  half  the  genitives  from  proper 
names  of  persons  are  expressed  by  his.  And  it  does  not  ap 
pear  that  in  the  genitives  expressed  by  his  the  possessive  idea 
is  at  all  more  distinct  or  emphatic  than  it  is  in  the  inflectional 
genitives.  We  have  "  Eubrac  his  soncs  "  (sons),  but  we  have 
also  "Argalrc  sones  ;  "  "  Gorbonia  his  brother,"  but  also 
"  Morgans  brother  ;  "  "  Julius  his  men,"  but  also  "  Cesar  es 
men;"  "  Cunagcs  his  hond "  (hand),  but  also  "  Belyn^ 
hond  ;  "  "  Jaines  his  temple,"  but  also  "  Appol'mcs  temple  " 
(nom.  Appoliii]  ;  and  so  on.  In  fact,  we  find  "  Albanac  his 
lond"  (land)  followed,  eight  lines  after,  by  "  Albanackrj  folk  ;  " 
and  <c  Belyn^  forth -fare  "  (departure,  decease)  followed,  two 
lines  after,  by  "  Belyn  his  cleathe."  Is  it  not  evident  that 
these  arc  mere  capricious  variations  of  orthography,  without 
difference  of  use,  and  apparently  without  difference  of  pro- 


ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE.  235 

nunciation  ?  From,  proper  names  of  places  or  countries  I 
have  noted  fifteen  genitives  :  two  of  these — "  Wales  his 
louerd  "  (lord),  and  "  Leogris  his  lond  " — are  made  with  his  ; 
while  the  remaining  thirteen  are  written  with  inflective  s,  as 
"  Norwey^y  king,"  "  Lombard i^  lond,"  and  so  on.  From 
common  nouns  I  have  observed  only  two  instances  of  the 
genitive  expressed  by  his:  viz.,  "hem  his  mochelc  mod" 
(uncle's  micklemood),  and  "  man  his  froucre  "  (man's  savior). 
On  the  other  hand,  we  have  "  hemes  name  "  (uncle's  name), 
'•'  marine  hond  "  (man's  hand),  and  so  on.  Indeed,  the  gen 
itives  of  common  nouns,  written  with  inflective  s,  which  I 
have  noted,  are  about  eighty  in  number:  of  these,  many  are 
possessive  in  the  strictest  sense,  and  four-fifths — perhaps  nine- 
tenths — are  susceptible  of  being  rendered  by  our  English  pos 
sessive.  Again  we  ask  whether  it  is  not  evident — at  least  as 
regards  the  first  quarter  of  the  poem — that  the  genitive  ex 
pressed  by  his  is  only  an  occasional  orthographic  varia 
tion  of  the  old  inflectional  genitive — a  variation  restricted,  in 
the  main,  to  masculine  names  of  persons,  in  which  it  would 
be  most  natural  for  an  unlearned  scribe  to  substitute  the  pro 
noun  Jiis  for  the  inflection  -es,  the  two  forms  being  equivalent 
to  his  mind,  and  almost  or  altogether  equivalent  to  his  ear. 

The  conclusion  thus  drawn  is  strongly  confirmed  by  the 
evidence  of  the  Ormulum.  This  poem,  of  about  20,000  short 
lines,  is  preserved  in  a  single  manuscript,  which  is,  not  im 
probably,  the  autograph  of  the  author,  the  monk  Ormin  him 
self.  It  belongs  apparently  to  about  the  same  age  as  the  se 
cond  manuscript  of  Layamon.  In  the  character  of  its  noun- 
inflection' it  has  a  decidedly  later  aspect  than  that  manuscript  ; 
it  approaches  altogether  more  nearly  to.  the  modern  inflection 
of  the  noun.  But  when  all  indications  of  age  are  taken  into 
the  account,  it  will  have  to  be  considered,  probably,  as  pretty 
closely  contemporaneous  with  the  later  manuscript  of  Laya- 
man.  The  Ormulum  is  especially  valuable  from  its  regular  and 
careful  phonetic  spelling.  It  is  a  standing  refutation  of  the 
oft-repeated  fallacy,  that  a  cast-iron  orthography— a  system 
which  follows  tradition,  without  regard  for  present  pronuncia 
tion — however  inconvenient  in  other  respects,  is  useful  or  in 
dispensable  for  philological  purposes.  Here  is  a  work,  wholly 


236  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

without  literary  merit,  valuable  chiefly  to  the  philologist,  and 
to  him  chiefly  from  the  fact  that  the  scribe,  departing  freely 
from  traditional  modes  of  spelling,  undertook  to  make  his  spell 
ing  represent  his  pronunciation.  In  the  Ormulum  we  find  the 
genitive  restricted  in  position  and  function  almost  entirely  as  it 
is  in  modern  English.  It  is  regularly  made  with  the  ending  -ess, 
the  s  being  doubled  merely  as  an  orthographic  sign,  to  show 
that  the  c  is  short.  Of  the  form  with  his  (or  hiss)  as  a  substi 
tute  for  the  inflection-ending,  not  a  single  instance  is  found  in 
the  Ormulum.  Nor  can  it  be  claimed  with  any  probability 
that  this  genitive-ending  -ess  has  come  from  the  pronoun  his 
by  suppressing  the  //  ;  for  the  difference  between  the  vowels  e 
and  2,  though  in  ordinary  manuscripts  no  stress  could  be  laid 
upon  it,  is  decisive  here  :  when  so  careful  a  speller  writes  his 
always  with  /,  and  the  genitive-ending  always  with  e,  we  may 
be  sure  that  he  sounded  the  vowels  differently  in  the  pronoun 
and  the  ending.  But,  indeed,  there  can  be  no  reasonable 
question  that  the  possessive  of  the  Ormulum  is  the  descendant 
and  representative  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive.  Mr.  Man 
ning  himself,  quoting  the  line  "till  helless  thesternesse  "  (to 
hell's  darkness),  says  that  "  we  find  here  the  old  Anglo-Saxon 
genitive."  He  was  aware,  probably,  when  saying  this,  that 
the  Anglo-Saxon  word  Jicl ,  being  feminine,  makes  Jicllc  (with 
out  s)  in  the  genitive  ;  yet  he  could  justly  describe  he! less  as 
an  Anglo-Saxon  genitive — in  this  sense,  that  it  shows  an 
Anglo-Saxon  formation,  extended  in  this  instance  a  little  be 
yond  the  bounds  which  it  had  in  that  language.  But  if 
this  formation  in  the  Ormulum  is,  by  Mr.  Manning's  own  ad 
mission,  identical  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive,  how  can  it 

o  o 

be  denied  that  our  English  possessive  in  s  is  identical  with 
the  Anglo-Saxon  genitive  ?  The  -ess  of  the  Ormulum  has 
very  much  the  same  range  of  use  as  our  possessive  s,  being  al 
ready  extended  to  feminities,  to  words  of  the  //-declension, 
and  to  plurals  ;  it  takes  the  same  uniform  position  before  the 
word  on  which  it  depends,  and  it  is  restricted  substantially  to 
the  same  syntactical  relations.  And  if  the  -ess  of  the  Ormu 
lum  has  a  vowel-sound  which  is  generally  wanting  to  our  pos 
sessive,  we  find  a  perfect  parallel  to  this  in  the  ending  of  the 
plural,  which  is  -ess  in  the  Oimulum,  and  is  now  generally  re- 


ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE.  237 

duced  to  a  mere  s.  It  is  true  that  in  writing  the  possessive  we 
use  a  sign — the  apostrophe — which  we  do  not  use  in  writing 
the  plural.  And  it  may  be  true  that  those  who  first  used  the 
apostrophe  did  so  because  they  believed  the  possessive  s  to  be 
only  a  remnant  of  the  separate  word  his.  But  such  a  belief, 
entertained  at  the  close  of  the  i6th  century,  has  no  more 
weight  of  authority  than  when  entertained  now.  It  could 
have  rested  then  on  no  proofs  which  are  not  accessible  now  ; 
and  if  the  proofs  now  appear  insufficient  to  support  it,  they 
must  have  been  insufficient  then.  False  etymology  is  con 
fined  to  no  age.  It  appears  in  various  particulars  of  our  old 
established  orthography — in  spelling  island  (for  instance)  as 
if  it  were  connected  with  isle  j  in  spelling  sovereign  as  if  it 
were  connected  with  reign  •  and  so  on.  If  the  apostrophized 
s  indicates  a  supposed  connection  with  his,  it  may  be  only 
another  instance  of  the  same  kind. 

Mr.  Manning  cites,  from  writers  of  the  fourteenth  and  fol 
lowing  centuries,  a  series  of  passages  showing  possessive 
cases  made  with  his.  He  carries  these  citations  even  into  the 
seventeenth  century.  In  the  authorized  version  of  the  Bible, 
as  first  printed,  there  were  (he  says)  three  cases  of  the  kind  ; 
one  of  which — "  Holofernes  his  head  "• — is  to  be  seen,  still 
unchanged,  in  the  Apocrypha.  As  for  the  other  two — "  Asa 
his  heart  "  and  "  Mordecai  his  matters  "'—he  complains  that 
they  have  been  "  altered  by  some  careless  or  earless  printer" 
into  "Asa's  heart"  and  "  Mordecai's  matters."  But  are 
these  three  cases  distinguished  by  any  special  /it's -ness  from 
the  common  run  of  possessives  in  the  Bible  ?  and,  if  not,  then 
is  it  not,  probably,  mere  carelessness,  either  of  the  printer  or 
the  scribe,  which  gave  them  their  peculiar  form  in  the  first 
edition  ?  From  Ben  Jonson  several  instances  are  given, 
like  "  Sejanus  his  fall,"  "  Horace  his  judgment."  But  as  this 
is  not  the  ordinary  form  of  the  possessive  in  Jonson's  works, 
and  as  Jonson,  noticing  this  form  in  his  English  Grammar, 
calls  it  (to  Mr.  Manning's  great  disgust)  a  "  monstrous  syn 
tax,"  might  it  not  be  more  charitable  to  ascribe  those  in 
stances  to  "  a  careless  or  earless  printer?"  Mr.  Manning 
does  not  disdain  even  to  gather  up  some  few  examples  from 
writers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  Addison,  Pope,  and  Sterne  ; 


238  ENGLISH  POSSESSIVE  CASE. 

as  if  he  could  acid  anything  in  this  way  to  the  force  of  his 
previous  citations  ;  as  if  he  were  not  rather  weakening  the 
force  of  those  citations,  by  showing  that  men  could  write  as  a 
separate  his  what  they  undoubtedly  pronounced  as  a  mere 
inflective  s  or  es  ! 

Mr.  Manning  has  given  many  examples  of  a  possessive 
written  with  Jtis  :  he  might  easily  have  given  many  more. 
But  we  cannot  see  that  he  has  proved,  or  even  seriously  at 
tempted  to  prove,  that  this  was  the  prevailing  form  of  our 
possessive  at  any  period  of  time,  or  even  in  any  single  author. 
If  in  a  particular  book  he  finds  one,  two,  or  three  examples 
of  this  form,  he  seems  never  to  raise  the  question  whether 
these  are  specimens  of  a  general  practice,  or  exceptions  to  a 
general  practice  ;  though,  plainly  enough,  the  force  of  his 
examples  must  depend  largely  on  the  answer  to  this  question. 
He  notes  the  fact,  as  if  it  were  important,  that  one  of  Chaucer's 
Canterbury  Tales  is  entitled  the  "  Nonne  Prest  his  Tale." 
But  he  docs  not  notice  that  the  same  tale  was  just  before  de 
signated  as  the  "  Nonne  Presto  Tale."  In  Wright's  text  of 
the  Canterbury  Tales,  which  is  regarded  as  the  best  hitherto 
published,  the  possessive  written  with  his  is  not  only  an  ex 
ception,  but  a  rare  exception,  to  the  prevailing  form. 

My  opportunities  for  studying  old  English  texts  have  been 
exceedingly  limited,  and  I  cannot  therefore  speak  with  posi- 
tiveness  as  to  their  usage  in  this  particular.  I  have  examined, 
however,  with  reference  to  this  point,  the  series  of  extracts 
given  in  Mr.  Marsh's  Origin  and  History  of  the  English  Lan 
guage.  Those  extracts  are  somewhat  extended  ;  they  repre 
sent  the  leading  productions  of  English  literature  from  the 
close  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  period  to  the  middle  of  the  six 
teenth  century  ;  they  are  taken  from  the  best  texts  which 
had  been  printed  when  that  work  appeared.  In  these  ex 
tracts  there  are  many  examples  of  the  possessive  in  s  ;  but — 
aside  from  the  later  text  of  Layamon,  which  has  been  dis 
cussed  already — I  have  not  been  able  to  find  a  single  instance 
of  a  possessive  written  with  his.  I  say  "not  a  single  in 
stance  ;  "  for  as  to  the  line  in  the  Surtees  Psalter — "  man  his 
claies  ere  als  hai  "  -I  do  not  regard  it  as  an  instance  of  the  . 
kind.  Man  here  was  undoubtedly  uttered  as  an  independent 


ENGLISH 

word,  followed  by  a  pause  ;  exactly  like  homo  in  the  Latin 
original — homo  sic  lit  foenitm  dies  ejus — and  like  man  in  the 
older  Wycliffite  version — "  a  man  as  hey  his  dayes." 

We  conclude,  then,  that  the  genitive  in  j,  which  belonged 
to  the  earliest  Anglo-Saxon,  has  never  dropped  out  of  the 
language  ;  that  it  has  never  ceased  to  be  in  use.  It  has  un 
dergone  great  changes,  both  in  the  range  of  words  that  take 
it,  and  in  the  range  of  uses  for  which  it  is  employed  ;  but  the 
result  of  all  these  changes,  the  modern  English  possessive,  is 
connected  by  an  unbroken  historical  tradition  with  the  inflec 
tional  genitive  of  the  Anglo-Saxon.  This  is  the  common  be 
lief  of  scholars,  and  it  is  likely  to  be  sustained,  rather  than 
shaken,  by  the  new  discussion  which  Mr.  Manning  has  opened 
in  so  spirited  a  manner.  On  the  other  hand,  the  possessive 
made  by  his  appears,  with  all  the  new  light  which  he  has 
thrown  upon  it,  to  be  only  an  occasional  variation  of  the 
English  possessive.  It  is  (or  rather,  it  was)  a  variation,  not 
in  the  form  itself,  .as  heard  in  living  utterance,  but  in  the  way 
of  representing  that  form  in  writing.  It  arose,  apparently, 
from  a  mistaken  and  fanciful  etymology,  which  seemed  to 
furnish  a  plausible  explanation  for  the  possessive  sense  ;  and 
the  degree  of  currency  which  it  gained  is,  at  least  partly,  due 
to  the  general  inexactness  and  confusion  of  early  English 
orthography. 


XIV-. 
ELLIS'S  EARLY  ENGLISH  PRONUNCIATION.* 

1870. 

THE  Second  Part,  which  is  to  complete  this  learned  and 
valuable  work,  was  expected,  according  to  the  author's 
statement,  to  have  about  the  same  extent  as  the  First,  and  to 
be  ready  for  publication  before  the  close  of  the  year  1869. 
It  will  investigate  the  pronunciation  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  Old 
English  prior  to  the  fourteenth  century,  with  that  of  the  Teu 
tonic  and  Scandinavian  sources  of  the  English  ;  it  will  dis 
cuss  the  correspondence  of  orthography  and  pronunciation 
from  Anglo-Saxon  times  to  the  present  day  ;  and  it  will  con 
tain  a  series  of  documents  and  illustrations  relating  to  the 
pronunciation  of  our  language  in  the  successive  periods  of 
its  history.  Its  appearance  will  be  awaited  with  much  in 
terest  ;  yet  it  will  probably  be  little  more  than  an  extended 
supplement  to  the  part  nowr  before  us.  It  is  safe  to  assume 
that  this  first  part  is  much  the  more  important  of  the  two, 
not  only  exhibiting  the  author's  method,  but  presenting  us 
with  the  general  views  and  opinions  to  which  it  has  led  him. 
We  shall  be  in  little  danger  of  doing  him  injustice  if  we 
criticise  what  we  already  have,  without  waiting  for  that  which 
is  yet  to  come. 

It  is  saying  little,  to  say  that  Mr.  Ellis  has  surpassed  all 
predecessors  in  the  same  field.  We  believe  that  he  is  the 
first  who  has  really  endeavored  to  collect  everything  which 
can  throw  light  on  the  history  of  English  pronunciation,  and 
to  treat  the  whole  subject  with  scientific  precision  and. 

*  On  Early  English  Pronunciation,  with  especial  reference  to  Shakespeare  and 
Chaucer.  By  Alexander  J.  Ellis,  F.  R.S.,  etc.  Parti.  On  the  Pronunciation  of 
the  XlVth,  XVIth,  XVIIth,  and  XVIIIth  Centuries.  London  :  Published  for 
the  Philological  Society,  by  Asher  &Co.,  London  and  Berlin;  and  for  the  Early 
English  Text  Society,  by  Trubner  &  Co.,  60  Paternoster  Row.  1869.  Svo. 
pp.  viii,  416. 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  24 1 

thoroughness.  In  the  collection  of  his  material  he  has  used 
exemplary  diligence,  sparing  no  pains  to  make  it  complete 
and  exhaustive  ;  and  in  the  discussion  of  it  he  has  shown  a 
fairness  of  mind,  a  freedom  from  prejudice,  a  simple  love 
of  truth,  not  less  exemplary.  He  is  always  careful  to  present 
the  evidence  on  which  his  conclusions  are  founded,  and  to 
distinguish  conclusions  which  seem  to  him.  only  probable,  in 
greater  or  less  degree,  from  those  which  he  regards  as  cer 
tain.  He  does  not  fail  to  recognize  the  uncertainties  which 
affect  much  of  the  evidence — uncertainties  arising  either  from 
the  nature  of  the  subject  or  from  the  peculiarities  of  individual 
witnesses.  Nor  does  he  keep  back  the  evidence  which  seems 
unfavorable  to  what  he  thinks  the  best-supported  conclusions  ; 
but  presents  the  whole  case,  making  it  possible  for  the  reader 
to  form  an  independent  judgment. 

In  the  notation  of  spoken  sounds,  Mr.  Ellis  uses  a  compre 
hensive  system,  \vhich  he  calls  by  the  name  palceotype  (only 
the  old  types  being  used  in  it),  and  sets  it  forth  in  a  brief  in 
troduction.  It  is  based  on  the  Roman  alphabet,  and  contains 
no  sign  that  cannot  be  found  in  the  cases  of  an  ordinary 
printing-office.  To  secure  the  necessary  variety,  italics, 
small  capitals,  and  (in  some  instances)  inverted  letters 
are  used  to  denote  sounds  distinct  from,  though  akin  to, 
those  expressed  by  the  corresponding  Roman  letters.  As  a 
further  means  to  the  same  end,  the  forms  (h,  j,  id)  are  used, 
without  any  consonant  power,  merely  as  diacritical  signs, 
modifying  the  sounds  of  the  letters  with  which  they  are 
connected  ;  while  the  forms  (ll,  J,  w,  and  q)  represent  the 
consonant  sounds  in  /;ay,  j/ea,  way,  \\ing.  Long  vowels  are 
represented  by  doubling  the  signs  which  stand  for  the  cor 
responding  short  vowels  ;  diphthongs,  by  writing  their  ele 
mentary  vowels  in  immediate  succession  ;  successive  vowels, 
if  they  do  not  form  a  diphthong,  are  separated  by  a  comma. 
Words  and  sounds  written  in  palaeotype,  if  mixed  with  or 
dinary  writing,  are  distinguished  by  enclosing  them  in  marks 
of  parenthesis  :  thus,  (Hee,zq)  for  Jiaying.  Mr.  Ellis  is  care 
ful  to  explain  that  this  mode  of  writing  is  not  designed  to 
supersede  the  current  orthography  in  popular  use  ;  it  is  in 
tended  for  scientific  purposes,  as  a  means  of  designating 
16 


242 


EARLY  ENGLISH  PRONUNCIATION. 


conveniently  and  exactly  the  sounds  heard  in  English  and  in 
other  ^languages..  In  his  tabular  Key  to  Palaeotype  he  gives 
more  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  distinct  sonnds,  with  their 
notation  in  his  system.  He  also  compares  these  signs  of  his 
with  the  letter-forms  devised  by  Mr.  Melville  Bell,  and  de 
scribed  in  his  "  Visible  Speech."  The  number  of  signs  re 
quired  in  treating  of  English  pronunciation  past  and  present 
is,  of  course,  much  less  than  two  hundred  and  fifty.  Among 
those  which  occur  "often  in  the  book  we  maybe  allowed  to 
give  here  the  most  important,  as  it  will  be  convenient  to  use 
them  in  the  statements  and  criticisms  that  we  have  to  offer. 
The  short  vowels  (a,  e,  i,  o,  u)  have  the  Italian  sounds  ;  but 
these  are  almost  all  different  from  the  English  short  vowels 
mpat,  pet,  pit,  pot,  put,  which  are  represented  in  palseotype 
by  (ae,  e,  i,  D,  ?/).  The  long  vowels  (aa,  ee,  ii,  oo,  uu),  with 
Italian  sounds,  correspond  more  nearly  to  the  English  long 
in  par,  pale,  peel,  pole,  pool,  which  are  represented  in 
palseotype  by  (aa,  ee,  ii,  oo,  uu),  where  (ce,  oo)  are  closer 
sounds  than  (ee,  oo).  The  forms  (y,  ce)  stand  for  the  German 
u,  o.  The  English  short  and  long  a  in  want,  war,  are  ex 
pressed  by  the  small  capital  (A,  AA)  ;  the  short  u  in  but,  by 
the  inverted  (o)  ;  the  diphthongs  in  height,  house,  by  (si, 
9u)  ;  the  diphthongal  u  in  pure,  by  (in).  As  to  the  conso 
nants,  we  have  already  spoken  of  (ii,  j,  w,  q)  ;  and  need  only 
add  (j)  for  the  weak  final  r  in  fair,  and  (th,  dh,  sh,  zh,  tsh, 
dzh)  for  the  spirant  sounds  in  thcw,  tiion,  sJioe,  azure,  chew:,  Jeiv. 
Mr.  Ellis  commences  his  inquiry  with  the  pronunciation  of 
the  sixteenth,  seventeenth,  and  eighteenth  centuries.  From 
the  known  present  he  goes  back  first  of  all  to  the  recent  past. 
For  this  period  he  has  the  aid  of  a  long  series  of  orthoepical 
writers  ;  and  he  begins  by  enumerating  these  in  the  order  of 
trme,  giving  full  titles  of  works,  and  adding  brief  descriptions 
and  criticisms.  The  writers  to  whom  he  refers  most  fre 
quently  are:  John  Palsgrave  (French  Grammar),  1530;  W. 
Salcsbury,  1547,  1567;  Sir  Thomas  Smith,  1568;  John  Hart, 
1569;  William  Bullokar,  1580;  Alexander  Gill,  1619;  Ben 
Jonson  (English  Grammar),  1640;  John  Wallis  (English 
Grammar),  1653;  Philip  Wilkins  (Philosophical  Language^, 
1668  ;  Owen  Price,  1668  ;  C.  Cooper,  1685  ;  John  Jones,  i/oi  ; 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  O  NUN  CIA  TION.  243 

an  anonymous  Expert  Orthographist,  1704;  James  Buchanan 
1766;  Benjamin  Franklin  (Scheme  for  a  New  Alphabet), 
1768.  He  manifests  an  especial  preference  for  Salesbury  and 
Wallis.  The  latter,  who  was  Professor  of  Mathematics  at 
Oxford,  wrote  a  Grammatica  Lingua  Anglicance,  with  a 
prefixed  Tract  at  us  grammatico-physicus  de  Loquela,  in  which 
he  gives  an  elaborate  .description  of  the  English  sounds,  with 
the  positions  and  movements  of  the  vocal  organs  in  produ 
cing  them.  The  former,  a  Welshman,  educated  at  Oxford, 
prepared  an  English  Dictionary  for  the  use  of  his  country 
men,  with  an  interesting  and  valuable  introduction,  written  in 
Welsh,  on  English  pronunciation. 

From  such  materials  Mr.  Ellis  endeavors  to  reconstruct  the 
prevailing  pronunciation  of  our  language  during  the  three 
centuries  which  preceded  our  own.  He  does  not  disguise 
from  himself  the  very  great  difficulties  of  the  task.  There 
are  few  things  harder  than  to  understand  the  descriptions  of 
spoken  sounds.  Even  when  the  writer  is  intelligent,  it  is  no 
very  easy  matter  to  reproduce  the  precise  position  of  the 
vocal  organs,  the  precise  utterance,  which  he  meant  to  de 
scribe.  But  most  writers  have  been  ignorant  both  of  the 
physical  mechanism  of  speech  and  of  the  true  relations  of 
sounds.  The  terms  which  they  have  used  are  very  often 
inexact  or  unmeaning.  Who  can  be  sure  as  to  the  force  of 
thick,  thin,  full,  round,  flat,  hard,  sdft,  rough,  smooth,  coarse, 
•fine,  sharp,  dull,  clear,  obscure,  and  many  similar,  epithets, 
which  are  so  commonly  and  so  fancifully  applied  to  vowels 
and  consonants  ?  If  the  writer  identifies  a  particular  English 
sound  with  one  in  some  foreign  language,  as  the  French,  a 
variety  of  doubts  at  once  suggest  themselves.  Are  we  sure 
that  he  meant  to  -assert  an  absolute  identity,  or  only  a  resem 
blance,  between  the  sounds  compared  ?  Are  we  sure  that 
the  French  sound  has  not  varied  since  the  time  in  question  ? 
Are  we  sure  that  it  was  uniform  at  that  time  ?  Are  we  sure 
that  the  writer  correctly  apprehended  the  French  sound  of 
which  he  speaks  ?  Misapprehension  of  foreign  sounds  is  a 
thing  of  constant  occurrence.  Mr.  Ellis  mentions  a  remark 
able  instance  in  a  lecture  by  Professor  Blackie,  of  Edinburgh, 
on  the  pronunciation  of  Greek  ;  after  saying  that  long  a  in 


244  EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

Greek  had  the  sound  of  Italian  a  in  amarc,  the  lecturer  added 
immediately  that  "  long  a  should  always  be  pronounced  like 
English  aw  or  au ,  as  in  cawl,  maid,  etc."  !  Even  experts 
may  differ  as  to  the  real  character  of  the  foreign  sound. 
Speaking  of  the  French  vowels  before  the  nasal  n  in  an,  vin, 
on,  un,  Mr.  Ellis  represents  them,  first  as  they  seem  to  his 
own  ear,  and  then  as  they  appear  to  Dr.  Rapp,  M.  Feline, 
M.  Favarger,  and  Mr.  Melville  Bell  ;  and  no  two  of  these 
gentlemen  agree  entirely  with  each  other.  Mr.  Ellis  further 
tells  us  that  he  differs  from  Mr.  Bell  in  his  pronunciation  of 
several  of  the  key-words  which  the  latter  has  used  to  show 
the  exact  phonetic  value  of  his  symbols, 

While  fully  recognizing  these  difficulties  which  beset  his 
inquiry,  our  author  has  not  allowed  himself  to  be  deterred 
from  pursuing  it.  Taking  up  in  succession  the  English 
vowels  and  consonants,  he  endeavors  to  ascertain,  from  a 
detailed  examination  of  his  authorities,  how  each  was  sounded 
in  the  sixteenth  century,  what  changes  (if  any)  it  has  under 
gone  since  then,  and  at  what  time  they  occurred.  Most 
readers,  we  presume,  will  be  surprised  at  the  amount  of 
change  which  he  finds  in  English  pronunciation,  and  espe 
cially  in  the  vowel  sounds,  since  the  sixteenth  century.  Thus, 
to  commence  with  the  short  vowels,  he  holds  that  only 
e  and  I  were  pronounced  then  as  they  now  are — that  is,  as 
(e)  and  (z)  ;  as  to  a,  6,  u,  he  believes  that  they  were  then 
pronounced  (a,  o,  u),  the  first  two  as  in  Italian,  and  that  the 
now  prevailing  sounds  for  them,  viz.  (ae,  o,  3),  as  seen  in  the 
words  cat,  cot,  cut,  came  in  during  the  seventeenth  century. 
This  may  be  true  as  to  6  and  u ;  but  we  cannot  help  thinking, 
for  reasons  which  will  appear  presently,  that  our  current 
sound  of  a  is  older  than  he  makes  it — that  it  belonged  to  the 
pronunciation  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

Next,  as  to  the  long  vowels.  According  to  Mr.  Ellis,  the  e, 
which  in  Chaucer's  time  (the  fourteenth  century)  was  always 
(ee),  began  to  take  the  sound  (ii)  during  the  fifteenth.  In 
the  sixteenth,  a  practice  arose  of  representing  the  latter  sound 
(ii)  by  doubling  the  vowel,  as  ee ;  while  the  old  sound  (ee), 
where  it  remained,  was  often  distinguished  by  an  added  a,  as  ea. 
Thus  been,  reed,  greet  \VQYQ  pronounced  as  (biin,  riid,  griit)  ;  but 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  O  NUN  CIA  TION.  24$ 

bean,  read,  great,  as  (been,  reed,  greet).  At  length,  however, 
the  new  sound  (ii)  was  extended  to  words  which  had  for  a  time 
retained  the  old  one,  the  change  being  particularly  rapid  about 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  so  that  early  in  the  eigh 
teenth  ea  had  come  to  have  in  most  cases  the  same  sound  as  ce. 
It  is  curious  to  compare  the  lists  of  words  with  eay  given  by 
orthoepists  during  the  transition  period,  and  to  note  the 
progress  of  the  change.  We  find  here,  as  in  many  such 
revolutions,  that  particular  individuals  carry  out  the  innovat 
ing  tendency  to  an  extent  which  is  not  finally  sanctioned  by 
the  prevailing  usage  ;  some  writers  give  break,  great,  in- 
deavonr,  deaf,  etc.,  with  the  sound  of  (ii).  Mr.  Ellis,  by  the 
way,  speaks  of  (diif)  as  a  pronunciation  which  he  has  never 
been  fortunate  enough  to  hear. 

The  o  has  up  to  a  certain  point  the  same  history  as  the  e. 
Before  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  it  had  in  many 
words  passed  from  its  proper  sound  of  (oo)  into  the  closer 
(uu).  And  here  also  the  practice  arose  in  the  sixteenth 
century  of  representing  the  new  sound  (uu)  by  doubling  the 
letter,  as  oo ;  while  the  old  sound,  where  it  remained,  was 
often  distinguished  by  an  added  a,  as  oa.  Thus  moon,  rood 
were  pronounced  as  (muun,  ruud)  ;  but  moan,  road,  as 
(moon,  rood).  Here,  however,  the  parallel  ceases.  The 
movement  had  already  spent  its  force  before  the  Elizabethan 
time.  While  ea  in  most  words  passed  on  from  (ee)  to  (ii),  oa 
has  never  passed  from  (oo)  to  (uu)  ;  with  few  exceptions — 
such  as  move,  prove ,  and  (with  shortened  vowel)  love,  dove — 
the  o  has  taken  on  the  (uu)  sound  only  in  words  where  that 
sound  was  indicated  in  the  sixteenth  century  by  the  writing  oo. 

Long  I  and  on,  which  in  Chaucer's  time  were  simple  sounds, 
the  first  being  pronounced  (ii)  and  the  second  (uu),  had  to  a 
great  extent  become  diphthongs  in  the  sixteenth  century. 
In  Mr.  Ellis's  opinion,  they  were  more  clearly  diphthongal 
then  than  now,  being  sounded  as  (ei)  and  (on),  where  each 
vowel  must  be  understood  as  having  its  proper  force  distinctly 
audible.  In  the  present  pronunciation  the  first  element  is 
obscure  ;  the  initial  position  of  the  organs  is  not  maintained 
long  enough  to  give  a  fully  characterized  utterance  ;  hence, 
orthoepists  differ  much  as  to  the  first  vowel  sound  in 'English 


246  EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

long  I  and  ou.  Mr.  Ellis  regards  it  as  (9),  and  writes  the 
diphthongs  as  now  pronounced  (si,  su).  This  pronunciation, 
he  thinks,  came  in  during  the  seventeenth  century,  or  perhaps 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth. 

For  ei  and  ai  our  author's  results  are  particularly  interest 
ing.  He  shows  that  in  the  sixteenth  century  they  were  true 
diphthongs,  differing  little,  if  at  all,  in  their  pronunciation, 
which  must  have  been  much  the  same  with  that  of  our  af 
firmative  aye.  It  is  observed  that  in  Shakespeare's  minor 
poems  there  is  but  one  real  instance — in  the  words  mane, 
again— of  a  rhyme  between  a  and  ai.  The  change  by  which 
these  combinations  came  to  be  sounded  as  simple  vowels — 
usually  as  (ee],  but  ci  in  some  words  as  (ii) — is  referred,  like 
so  many  other  changes,  to  the  seventeenth  century. 

As  to  long  a — in  sale,  came,  fate,  etc. — Mr.  Ellis's  conclu 
sions  will  cause  greater  surprise,  and  will  perhaps  meet  with 
less  acceptance.  He  holds  that  in  the  sixteenth  century  such 
words  were  pronounced  (saal,  kaam,  faat),  with  the  Italian 
sound  of  a;  and  that,  in  the  scventeeth,  the  pronunciation 
changed  to  (saeael,  kaiajm,  fseaet),  differing  only  in  length  of 
sound  from  our  Sal,  Cam,  fat.  This  sound,  which  he  finds 
first  distinctly  apparent  in  the  description  of  Wallis  (1653), 
would  seem  to  have  been  only  transitional,  as  it  gave  place  at 
the  close  of  that  century  to  (ee),  which  has  since  passed  into 
the  closer  (ee]  :  thus,  ($cc\,  kmn,  fat).  What  now  is  the  reason 
for  believing  that  English  long  a  had  in  Shakespeare's  time 
the  Italian  sound  of  a  ?  Palsgrave,  in  1530,  identifies  the 
English  letter  with  the  Italian  ;  but  Palsgrave's  ear,  as  Mr. 
Ellis  admits,  was  none  of  the  most  delicate.  Hart,  in  1569, 
identifies  the  English  letter  with  the  German,  Italian,  French, 
Spanish,  and  Welsh  a  ;  but  this,  as  Mr.  Ellis  says,  is  too  wide 
a  comparison,  and  leaves  us  in  doubt  as  to  the  real  sound. 
The  witness  really  relied  upon  is  Salesbury,  who  says,  in 
1547,  that  "  a  in  English  is  the  same  sound  as  a  in  Welsh," 
and  represents  the  pronunciation  of  ale,  pale,  sale,  etc.,  by 
writing  them  for  Welshmen  aal,  paal,  sal,  etc.  This 
testimony  makes  it  pretty  clear  that  English  a  had  not  then 
the  same  sound  as  at  present.  If  it  had,  Salesbury  would  al 
most  certainly  have  compared  it  with  Welsh  e ;  and  Palsgrave 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  247 

and  Hart,  with  e  in  Italian,  French,  etc.  No  one  now  could 
for  a  moment  think  of  giving  a,  rather  than  e,  in  those  lan 
guages  as  the  nearest  equivalent  for  English  long  a.  But  as 
proof  of  the  sound  (aa),  this  evidence  is  not  equally  convinc 
ing.  It 'is  curious  that  in  the  following  century  Wallis,  whose 
testimony  is  regarded  as  clearest  for  the  sound  (seae),  still 
identifies  the  English  and  Welsh  a.  It  appears  that  a  fraction 
of  the  Welsh  people  now  give  this  sound  (se)  to  their  own  a  / 
and  such  possibly  may  have  been  the  pronunciation  of  Sales- 
bury.  It  is,  doubtless,  more  probable  that  his  Welsh  a  was 
an  (a)  ;  but  if  so,  he  had  no  Welsh  letter  which  would  cor 
rectly  represent  an  (ae),  and  he  may  very  naturally  have  re 
garded  a  as  the  nearest  Welsh  equivalent.  But  what  is  most 
important,  we  have  distinct  positive  evidence  from  indepen 
dent  witnesses  that  the  English  a,  at  the  beginning  of  the  six 
teenth  century,  differed  from  the  French  a,  and  approached 
to  the  French  e.  In  the  fragment  of  a  treatise  on  the  pro 
nunciation  of  French,  by  an  unknown  author,  but  with  the 
date  1528  (two  years  earlier  than  Palsgrave's  book),  is  found 
the  following  statement  as  to  the  French  a  and  e:  "A. 
ought  to  be  pronounced  fro  the  botom  of  the  stomak,  and  all 
openly  ;  E.  a  lytell  hyer  in  the  throte,  there  properly  where 
the  .  englysshe  man  soundeth  his  a."  Similarly,  Gilles  du 
Guez,  in  his  account  of  French  pronunciation,  which  seems  to 
have  been  printed  about  1532,  says:  "Ye  shal  pronounce 
your  [French]  a  as  wyde  open  mouthed  as  ye  can  ;  your 
[French]  e,  as  ye  do  in  latyn  ,  almost  as  brode  as  ye  pro 
nounce  your  a  in  englysshe."  These  passages  do  not  prove 
indeed  that  English  a  was  identical  with  French  e  ;  in  fact, 
the  last  of  them  excludes  the  idea  of  such  an  identity.  But 
they  prove  an  approximation  of  the  English  a  to  the  French  e, 
which  is  scarcely  reconcilable  with  the  sound  (a)  for  the  for 
mer.  If  we  should  assume  that  English  a,  at  the  opening  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  had,  nearly  or  exactly,  the  sound  of  (ae), 
we  should  account  in  the  most  natural  manner  for  the  expres 
sions  of  these  writers.  A  similar  sound,  at  the  end  of  this 
century,  is  indicated  by  Peter  Erondell,  in  his  French  Gram 
mar  (London,  1605).  Distinguishing  the  French  a  from  the 
English,  he  represents  the  sound  of  English  ale  by  the  French 


248  EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

writing  eslwith  silent  s  :  that  is,  he  finds  the  nearest  equivalent 
for  English  a  in  the  French  open  e.  And  Mr.  Ellis  himself  finds 
the  same  sound,  a  =  (aeae),  clearly  set  forth  in  the  description 
of  Wallis  (1653).  Are  we  not  then  warranted  in  concluding 
that  English  a,  as  early  as  the  year  1528,  had  varied  from  the 
normal  sound  of  (a,  aa),  and  had  assumed  this  sound  of  (ae) 
for  a,  (cere)  for  a  ?  The  change  may  then  be  referred  with 
much  probability  to  the  fifteenth  century  ;  and  may  naturally 
be  regarded  as  the  starting-point  in  that  great  revolution 
which,  since  the  days  of  Chaucer,  has  transformed  the  whole 
vowel  system  of  our  language. 

If  we  find  ourselves  obliged  to  dissent  from  Mr.  Ellis  on  the 
pronunciation  of  long  a,  we  are  equally  unable  to  agree  with 
him  on  that  of  long  //.  He  regards  this  vowel  as  having  had, 
through  the  sixteenth  century  and  much  of  the  seventeenth, 
the  same  sound  as  the  French  u.  The  conclusion  is  not,  in 
deed,  as  incredible  as  it  may  seem  at  first  view.  Our  English 
u  is  nearly  confined  to  words  which  have  come  to  us  either 
from  the  French  itself  or  from  the  Latin  after  our  language 
had  fallen  under  French  influence.  The  Anglo-Saxon  and  the 
oldest  English  had  a  long  u,  but  for  five  centuries  it  has  been 
represented  by  ou  or  oiv.  The  n  in  Chaucer's  time,  and 
ever  since,  belongs  to  the  Romance  part  of  the  language. 
The  sound  of  French  u — (y,  yy),  as  represented  in  palaeo- 
type — is  certainly  a  strange  and  difficult  one  for  most  speakers 
of  English.  But  Mr.  Ellis  assures  us  that  it  is  common  in 
some  of  the  English  dialects  at  the  present  time.  "In  East 
Anglia,  in  Devonshire,  in  Cumberland,  as  well  as  in  Scotland, 
(yy)  and  its  related  sounds  are  quite  at  home."  We  must  ad 
mit,  then,  as  something  quite  possible,  that  this  may  have 
been  a  current  and  prevailing  sound  of  u  in  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries.  It  is  simply  a  question  of  evidence. 
Here  again,  as  for  long  a,  we  find  a  number  of  orthoepists 
asserting  the  identity  of  the  English  and  French  sounds. 
Among  these  we  may  reckon  Palsgrave  (1530),  who  speaks 
only  of  English  cw,  but  appears  to  have  meant  the  same 
sound  as  that  of  u;  also,  Sir  T.  Smith  (1568),  Hart  (1569), 
Bullokar  (1580),  and  lastly,  Wallis  (1653),  whose  testimony 
on  this  head  is  perfectly  distinct  and  positive.  Yet  in  this 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  249 

testimony  of  Wallis  we  find  the  clearest  proof  of  the  unreli 
able  character  of  such   identifications.      For  Bishop  Wilkins, 
in  1668,  speaking  of  the  French  ?/,  declares,  not  only  that  the 
English  do  not  use  it,  but  that  it  is  very  hard  for  them  to  pro 
nounce  it.      His  language   is:   ''As  for  the?/  Gallicum,   or 
whistling  ?/,  though  it  cannot  be  denied  to  be  a  distinct  sim 
ple  vowel,  yet  it  is  of  so  laborious  and  difficult  pronunciation 
to  all  those  nations  amongst  whom  it  is  not  used  (as  to  the 
English)  "  etc.      Let  it  be  observed  that  Wallis  and  Wilkins 
were  contemporaries,    that  both    were    natives    of   Southern 
England,  that  both   were   for  some   time   fellow-collegians  in 
Oxford,  that  both  must  have  mixed  in  the  same  society,   and 
that  their  books  were  separated  by  an  interval  of  only  fifteen 
years.     The  discrepancy  between  their  statements  cannot  be 
accounted  for  by  difference  of  time,  place,  education,  associa 
tion,  and  the  like.      One  or  the  other  must  have  been  in  error. 
But  a  writer's  statement  that  a  foreign  sound  is  strange  to  his 
own  people,  and  difficult  for  them  to  utter,  is  not  in  itself  likely 
to  be  erroneous  ;   and  in  this  case  it  is  confirmed  by  other  evi 
dence,   all  going  to  show   that    the  pronunciation  of  it  since 
Wilkins's  time  has  been  what  it  now  is.      If  then  the  sound  of 
French  u  was  not  used,  and  could  hardly  be  pronounced,  by 
the  English  in  1668,  it  cannot  possibly  have  been  the  current 
sound  of  English  u  in  1653.      Wallis's  identification  must  have 
been  an  error  ;  the  native  and  foreign  sounds  which  he  com 
pared  were  not  really  identical.     And  if  a  writer  so  intelligent 
and  careful  as  Wallis  could  fall  into  this  error,  we  need  not  be 
surprised   to  find  it  in  Palsgrave,  Smith,  Hart,  etc.      Indeed, 
the  last-named  writer  seems  to  be  at  variance  with  himself,  as 
in  an  earlier  treatise  he  identifies  the  vowel  u  with  the  word  you. 
He  also  describes  it  as  a  diphthong,  composed  of  i  and  u  ;  it  is 
true,  he  applies  the  same  description  to  the  French  u  ;  but  that 
may  only  show  that  he  misapprehended  the  foreign  sound. 

But  we  have  positive  evidence  that  the  French  and  English 
sounds  were  not  identical.  Erondell  (1605),  to  whose  French 
Grammar  we  have  referred  before,  gives  a  careful  description 
of  the  way  in  which  French  u  is  to  be  uttered,  and  directs 
the  learner  to  pronounce  musiquey  punir,  subvenir,  "  not  after 
the  English  pronunciation,  not  as  if  written  nniesiquc> pucnir, 


250  EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

suevenir"  with  the  English  uc  of  sue,  due,  etc.  Holyband 
("  French  Littleton,"  1609)  says  :  "You  must  take  paine  to 
pronounce  our  v  \i.e.  French  //]  otherwise  then  in  English  ; 
for  we  do  think,  when  Englishmen  do  profer  v  [i.e.  their  own 
u~\,  they  say,  you."  Here  Mr.  Ellis  finds  a  distinct  recognition 
of  our  present  sound  of  u.  But  we  should  hardly  speak  of 
it  as  "  the  first  distinct  recognition."  For  Salesbury  himself 
(1547)  indicates  the  same  sound,  when  he  says:  "  U  vowel 
answers  to  the  power  of  the  two  Welsh  letters  u,  w,  and  its 
usual  power  is  tiw,  as  shown  in  the  following  words,  TRUE 
truw  verus,  VERTUE  vcrtuw  probitas."  It  is  true  that  the 
Welsh  uw,  as  heard  in  Duw,  (  God,'  is  not  quite  the  same 
with  our  long  u  (as  in  cue)  ;  but  it  is  a  pretty  near  approxima 
tion  to  it,  and  the  nearest  which  is  possible  in  the  Welsh  lan 
guage.  The  difference  is  that  in  the  Welsh  uw  the  two  ele 
ments  of  the  diphthong  are  a  little  more  distinct  ;  we  can 
hear  the  initial  element  as  an  ({],  very  short,  but  perfectly  re 
cognizable,  before  the  closely  following  (?/).  The  English 
diphthongal  u  of  ate,  pure,  mute,  etc.,  has  the  same  elements, 
but  not  with  the  same  distinctness  of  utterance  ;  the  initial 
position  of  the  organs  is  not  held  long  enough  to  give  a  clear 
ly  characterized  sound.  In  this  respect  it  resembles  the  Eng 
lish  diphthongs  i  and  ou  ;  and  hence,  like  these,  it  has  often 
been  regarded  as  a  simple  sound.  Wallis  speaks  of  it  as 
such,  in  distinction  from  the  Welsh  mv  ;  and  when  he  identi 
fies  it  with  French  u,  he  gives  prominence  to  this  fact,  that 
both  are  simple  vowels. 

We  believe,  then,  that  English  u  had  in  Salesbury's  time- 
that  is,  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century — substantially 
the  same  pronunciation  as  at  present.  In  the  loose  identifi 
cations  with  French  //,  made  by  some  writers,  we  find  no  suf 
ficient  proof  of  the  contrary  ;  the  last  and  most  distinct,  by 
Wallis,  is  refuted  by  the  nearly  contemporaneous  state 
ments  of  Wilkins.  In  tracing  back  the  pronunciation  of  the 
letter  from  the  nineteenth  century  to  the  sixteenth,  there  is  a 
presumption  in  favor  of  the  present  sound,  unless  pretty 
strong  evidence  can  be  found  for  a  different  one.  We  do  find 
in  our  authorities  some  evidence  of  this  kind  ;  but  it  is  liable 
to  grave  suspicions,  and  is  more  than  biilanced  by  positive 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  O NUN  CIA  TION.  2  5 1 

indications  of  the  present  sound.  Perhaps  we  have  dwelt 
longer  than  we  ought  both  on  this  point  and  on  the  sixteenth- 
century  pronunciation  of  a.  But  they  seemed  to  be  among 
the  most  interesting  questions  raised  by  our  author  in  his  en 
deavor  to  determine  the  actual  living  utterance  of  Henry 
VIII.  and  Elizabeth  ;  and  they  are  well  fitted  to  illustrate  the 
amount  and  character  of  the  evidence  on  which  he  relies  in 
the  discussion  of  these  questions.  We  have  only  to  add  that 
the  testimonies  which  we  have  brought  forward  in  opposition 
to  his  views  have  all  been  derived  from  his  own  pages,  where 
they  stand  fairly  presented  and  candidly  considered. 

We  pass  on  to  the  consonants,  the  treatment  of  which  by 
our  author  will  furnish  much  less  occasion  for  remark.  Of 
the  weak  final  r,  as  heard  in  car,  care,  which  he  represents 
by  (j),  he  finds  no  trace  whatever  in  the  sixteenth  century. 
Even  Wallis  and  Wilkins  are  silent  in  regard  to  it.  But  Ben 
Jonson  (1640)  implies  its  existence,  when  he  speaks  of  the 
letter  as  sounded  in  two  ways,  "  firme  in  the  beginning 
of  the  words,  and  more  liquid  in  the  middle  and  ends."  As 
to  its  present  weakness,  the  language  of  Mr.  Ellis  is  very  em 
phatic  ;  he  represents  it  as  little  more  than  a  vanishing  quan 
tity,  and  indeed,  as  having  vanished  to  a  great  extent  from 
English  pronunciation.  He  says:  "This  second  (.1)  may 
diphthongize  with  any  preceding  vowel.  After  (a,  A,  o),  the 
effect  is  rather  to  lengthen  the  preceding  vowel  than  to  pro 
duce  a  distinct  diphthong.  Thus,  farther  and  lord  scarcely 
differ  from  father,  laud :  that  is,  the  diphthongs  (aj,  D.I)  are 
heard  almost  as  the  long  vowels  (aa,  AA).  That  a  distinction 
is  made  by  many,  by  more  perhaps  than  are  aware  of  it,  is 
certain  ;  but  it  is  also  certain  that  in  the  mouths  of  by  far  the 
greater  number  of  speakers  in  the  south  of  England  the  ab 
sorption,  of  the  (a)  is  as  complete  as  the  absorption  of  the  (1) 
in  talk,  walk,  psalm,  where  it  has  also  left  its  mark  on  the 
preceding  vowel.  When  Dickens  wrote  Count  Smorl  Tork, 
he  meant  Small  Talk,  and  no  ordinary  reader  would  distin 
guish  between  them"  And  again  :  "  The  diphthongs  (ej,  oj) 
are  very  difficult  to  separate  from  each  other  and  from  (39). 
But  the  slight  raising  of  the  point  of  the  tongue  will  distin 
guish  the  diphthongs  from  the  vowel  in  the  mouth  of  the 


252  EARLY  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

careful  speaker,  that  is,  one  who  trains  his  organs  to  do  so. 
No  doubt  the  great  majority  of  speakers  do  not  make  any  dif 
ference."  It  is  fortunate  for  this  much-abused  letter  that  so 
large  a  part  of  the  English-speaking  world  is  found  in  America, 
where  the  first  English  settlers/ brought  this  r  in  a  less  attenu 
ated  state,  and  where  their  descendants  have  been  largely 
reinforced  by  users  of  a  yet  stronger  r  from  Ireland  and  Scot 
land  and  the  continent  of  Europe.  Instead  of  losing  the  final 
r,  like  our  brethren  in  Southern  England,  we  are  more  likely 
to  restore  it  to  its  ancient  equivalency  with  the  initial  letter. 
As  to  the  combination  wr — in  write,  wreck,  wrath,  etc. — 
it  appears  from  the  testimony  of  Hart  that  the  w  was  not  en 
tirely  lost  in  the  sixteenth  century.  It  is  Mr.  Ellis's  opinion 
that  wr  was  sounded,  not  only  then,  but  from  the  earliest 
Anglo-Saxon  times,  as  (rw),  or  more  exactly  as  (rw),  a  labial 
ized  r,  the  product  of  an  effort  to  pronounce  r  and  w  at  one 
and  the  same  time.  The  French  roi  he  represents  by  (rwa)  ; 
and  he  holds  that  wrath,  wreck,  write  were  pronounced 
(rwath,  rzc'ek,  ra'cit).  This  seems  to  us  improbable  for  Old- 
English,  and  still  more  for  Anglo-Saxon.  If  wratli  had  been 
pronounced  thus,  it  would  almost  certainly  have  been  written 
rwatk.  To  English  ears  the  French  roi  appears  to  begin 
with  the  sound  of  r  followed  by  that  of  w  ;  it  is  safe  to  say 
that  not  one  man  in  a  hundred  would  think  of  it  as  beginning 
with  a  w  followed  by  an  r.  Even  the  words  what,  when, 
white,  etc.,  were  by  the  Anglo-Saxons  originally  and  gener 
ally  written  with  hw,  not  wh.  Would  they  not  have  followed 
the  same  analogy  by  writing  rw  instead  of  wr,  if  the  sound 
had  been  what  our  author  supposes  ?  The  copyists  were  ac 
customed  to  spell  very  much  according  to  their  own  ear  and 
taste  ;  would  they  not,  sometimes  at  least,  have  used  the 
order  rw  f  If  hw  has  been  changed  to  wh,  it  was  probably 
not  from  any  doubt  as  to  the  real  order  of  the  elements,  but 
from  the  influence  of  the  combinations  ///,  cJi,  tJi,  rli,  con 
stantly  presented  in  Latin  orthography.  There  could  be  no 
such  reason  for  adopting  wr  in  preference  to  the  seemingly 
more  natural  order  rw.  And  if  we  look  at  other  Teu 
tonic  languages,  we  find  everywhere  the  same  succession. 
Thus  wrath  appears  in  the  Old  Icelandic  as  vrcidhi,  in 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  O  NUN  CIA  TION.  253 

Swedish  and  Danish  as  vrede  ;  wrong  in  Icelandic  is  vrangr, 
Danish  vrang,  Swedish  vrang.  For  wring  the  Gothic  has 
vriggan  •  for  wreak  it  has  vrikan,  vrakjan  /  for  write  it  has 
vrits  (Gr.  icepaia,  '  point  of  a  letter  ').  In  view  of  these  con 
siderations,  who  can  doubt  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  writing  wr 
represents  the  real  order  of  the  sounds,  or  what  would  ap 
pear  such  to  hearers  generally  ?  If  so,  then  (rzc')  cannot  have 
been  the  Anglo-Saxon  pronunciation  ;  nor  is  there  any 
reason  for  supposing  that  the  Old-English  pronunciation  dif 
fered  in  this  case  from  the  Anglo-Saxon.  The  only  argu 
ment  we  can  see  for  Mr.  Ellis's  (rw)  is  the  difficulty  of  mak 
ing  a  true  English  w  audible  before  r  at  the  beginning  of  a 
word.  We  do  not  deny  the  difficulty  ;  nor  do  we  undertake 
to  determine  the  precise  sound  of  wry  but  we  could  easily 
believe  that  w  may  have  had  in  this  case  a  somewhat  stronger 
sound  than  we  are  wont  to  give  it — a  sound  perhaps  ap 
proaching  to  the  South  German  w  (a  v  pronounced  without 
pressure  of  the  teeth  against  the  lips),  which  Mr.  Ellis  (p. 
290)  finds  on  British  ground  in  the  Aberdeen  pronunciation 
of  write  as  (bhriit). 

In  this  connection  we  have  to  confess  some  feeling  of 
doubt,  if  not  of  skepticism,  as  to  our  author's  whole  theory 
of  labialized  consonants.  He  finds  in  French  loi  (he/a)  a 
labialized  /,  which  he  thinks  existed  once  in  English — talk 
being  once  sounded  (talzc/k) — "but  it  has  died  out:"  yet 
why  not  recognize  it  in  ahvays  ?  So  he  finds  a  labialized  k 
in  quell  (kwel),  a  labialized  t  in  twin,  a  labialized  d  in  dwell, 
etc.  Here  the  qu,  tzu,  dw  are  in  his  view  simple  consonants, 
a  k,  t,  d,  pronounced  in  a  labial  position.  To  us  they  still 
appear  as  composite  sounds.  Compare  high  dwell  the  birds 
with  hide  well  t/te  birds  :  in  continuous  utterance  are  they 
not  perfectly  alike  ?  What  Mr.  Ellis  says  of  twin  and  dwell, 
"  that  the  opening  of  the  lips  [from  the  rounded  closure  re 
quired  for  a  «/]  is  really  simultaneous  with  the  release  of  the 
(t,  d)  contact,"  we  are  unable  to  reconcile  with  the  testimony 
of  the  ear  as  to  our  own  pronunciation  and  that  which  we 
hear  around  us. 

The  wretched  weakness  of  utterance  which  has  changed 
know  to  no  (converting  science  into  mere  negation)  was,  ac- 


254  EARLY  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

cording  to  all  the  authorities,  still  unknown,  or  at  least  not 
prevalent,  in  the  sixteenth  century;  nor  did  it  become  uni 
versal  before  the  close  of  the  seventeenth.  So  too  it  appears 
that  the  gh  in  light,  weigh,  bough,  etc.,  was  heard,  though 
probably  with  only  a  feeble  utterance,  in  the  sixteenth  centu 
ry.  As  to  the  precise  sound,  there  is  an  uncertainty  ;  per 
haps,  as  in  Scotland  now,  it  may  have  had  both  sounds  of  the 
German  ch.  It  hardly  survived  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  In  most  words  it  simply  dropped  away  without  any 
further  change  ;  but  a  preceding  short  i  became  long,  as  in 
light,  night,  etc.  In  some  cases,  however,  it  was  replaced  by 
another  spirant  sound,  an/,  as  in  laugh,  cough,  rough,  and 
in  the  vulgarisms  oft,  tJwft,  for  ought,  thought.  In  sigh, 
height,  drought,  it  was  replaced,  at  least  in  occasional  use,  by 
the  spirant  th  :  the  pronunciations  sith,  hcith,  drouth  are 
mentioned  by  orthoepists  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  centu 
ry  ;  and  drouth  is  still  heard  in  our  country,  and  has  even  been 
adopted  in  an  American  Dictionary  of  the  English  language. 
The  suppression  of  the  h,  like  that  of  the  weak  r,  would 
perhaps  have  become  an  accomplished  fact  if  our  language 
had  been  wholly  dependent  on  the  people  of  Southern  Eng 
land.  On  this  subject  our  author  remarks  : — 

"  In  England  the  use  of  the  //  (H)  among  the  illiterate  seems  to  de 
pend  upon  emphatic  utterance.  Many  persons  when  speaking  quietly 
will  never  introduce  the  (H),  but  when  rendered  nervous  or  excited,  or 
when  desiring  to  speak  particularly  well,  they  abound  in  strong  and  un 
usual  aspirations.  It  is  also  singular  how  difficult  it  is  for  those  accus 
tomed  to  omit  the  h,  to  recover  it,  and  how  provokingly  they  sacrifice 
themselves  on  the  most  undesired  occasions  by  this  social  shibboleth. 
In  endeavoring  to  pronounce  the  fatal  letter,  they  generally  give  them 
selves  great  trouble,  and  consequently  produce  a  harshness  quite  un 
known  to  those  who  pronounce  (H)  naturally.  An  English  author,  S. 
Hirst,  writing  an  English  Grammar  in  German,  in  which  fifty  quarto 
pages  are  devoted  to  a  minute  account  of  the  pronunciation  of  English, 
actually  bestows  one  hundred  and  sixty-seven  quarto  lines  of  German, 
measuring  about  ninety  feet,  upon  attempting  to  show  that  formerly"// 
was  not  pronounced  in  English,  and  that  it  was  altogether  an  orthoepistic 
fancy  to  pronounce  it,  saying  that  almost  all  non-linguists  would  admit 
that  h  was  generally  mute,  or  at  most  scarcely  audible,  and  that  linguists 
who  denied  this  in  theory  gave  into  the  practice.  The  division  of  the 
people  is  not  exactly  into  linguists  and  non-linguists,  but  it  must  -be 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  255 

owned  that  very  large  masses  of  the  people,  even  of  those  tolerably  ed 
ucated  and  dressed  in  silk  and  broadcloth,  agree  with  the  French, 
Italians,  Spaniards,  and  Greeks,  in  not  pronouncing  the  letter  H." 

The  sounds  of  sh  in  such  words  as  sure,  pressure,  mission , 
special,  motion,  and  zJi  in  such  as  measure,  vision,  excision, 
are  unrecognized  by  the  orthoepists  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
and  are  not  mentioned  before  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth. 
Yet  traces  of  these  changes  are  pointed  out  in  Shakespeare 
and  Rowley.  Nor  can  it  be  doubted  that,  of  the  other 
changes  ascribed  to  the  seventeenth  century,  quite  a  number 
were  already  in  progress  during  the  sixteenth.  Thus,  if  Hart 
had  not  written,  there  would  have  been  no  evidence  that  the 
pronunciation  of  ai  as  a  simple  vowel  (ee)  was  known  to  the 
sixteenth  century  :  all  other  orthoepists  of  that  age  make  it  a 
true  diphthong;  but  Hart  in  1569  gives  it  uniformly  the 
sound  of  (ee).  Mr.  Ellis  regards  the  fifteenth  and  seven 
teenth  centuries  as  the  grand  periods  of  disturbance  and  revo 
lution  in  the  history  of  our  language  ;  he  thinks,  with  much 
reason,  that  they  owed  this  character  to  the  political  agitations, 
the  great  civil  contests,  by  which  they  were  shaken.  The 
intermediate  century,  the  sixteenth,  he  looks  upon  as  a  period 
of  comparative  stability  and  repose,  both  in  politics  and  in 
pronunciation.  Perhaps  this  is  the  true  conception.  Yet  to 
our  mind  the  facts  reported  in  this  book  suggest  rather  the 
view  that  a  great  revolution  in  English  pronunciation  was 
going  forward  from  the  opening  of  the  fifteenth  to  the  close 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  that  it  moved  on  with  unin 
terrupted  and  almost  unremitted  progress  from  the  beginning 
to  the  end  of  its  course. 

In  the  fourth  chapter,  which  concludes  this  first  part,  Mr. 
Ellis  deals  with  the  pronunciation  of  English  during  the  four 
teenth  century.  Here  he  finds  his  principal  means  of  investi 
gation  in  the  poetry,  and  especially  in  the  rhymes,  of  Chaucer 
and  Gower.  He  foresees  that  his  procedure  will  be  objected 
to,  on  the  ground  that  imperfect  rhymes,  which  often  occur  in 
modern  verse,  are  likely  to  have  been  yet  more  common  in 
that  earlier  and  ruder  age.  But  he  denies  the  force  of  the  ob 
jection,  contending  that  the  probabilities  of  the  case  point  the 
other  way.  A  rhyme  which  is  good  to  the  eye,  but  not  to 


256  EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR ONUNCIA  TION. 

the  ear,  may  be  tolerated  by  reading  men  ;  to  men  who  do 
not  read— and    such  to   a   great   extent    were    the    public    of 
Chaucer  and  Gower— it  is  no  rhyme  at  all.      Appealing  main- 
ly  to  the  ear,  these  poets  were  actually  less  likely  than  later 
rhymers  to  satisfy  themselves  with  loose  and  inexact  corre 
spondences   of  sound.     This   d  priori  argument  he    fortifies 
with  remarkable  success  by  an  examination  of  their  verses,  as 
represented  by  the  best  manuscripts.      In  Wright's  edition  of 
the   Canterbury  Tales,  founded    on    the    Harleian   MS.    No. 
7334,    and  containing    17,368  lines,   he   finds   less   than  fifty 
rhymes  in  which  the  spelling  indicates  a  difference  of  pronun 
ciation.       Of   these  few  exceptions    most  can  be    removed, 
either  by  the  readings  of  other  manuscripts,  or  by  conjectu 
ral  changes  of  a  simple  and  natural   character.     The   33,000 
verses  of   Gower's   Confcssio  Amantis  furnish  only   nine   in 
stances  of  faulty  rhymes,  and  for  these  it  is  shown  that  the 
editor,  not  the  author,  is  really  responsible.      The  nature  and 
force  of  the  evidence  derived  from  the  rhymes  of  these  poets 
is  perhaps  most  strikingly  seen  in  the  case  of  the  long  i  or  y. 
These  letters  appear  in  a  multitude  of  rhymes  like  the  follow 
ing  :  wyse  and  justise,  write  and  mcrite,  vice  and  office,  wyn 
and  famyn,  side  and    Cnpide,   lykc  and   ret  or  ike,  wliilc  and 
Virgil  e,  Bible  and  possible,  fyndc  and  Inde,  I  and    enemy, 
thcrby  and  mercy,  sky  and  tritely,  wJiy  and  almighty,  by  and 
lady,  etc.      Of  the  second  words  in  these  pairs,  the  last  three, 
truely ,  almighty,  and  lady,  come  to  us  from  the  Anglo-Saxon. 
They   still  have  in  the  last  syllable  the  same  vowel  sound,  or 
nearly  the   same,  as  in  that  language.      It   is   not  to  be  sup 
posed  that  in  the  fourteenth    century  they  should  have  taken 
up  a  sound  like  our  diphthongal  i  long,  only  to  lose  it  again 
by  the  sixteenth.      Still  less  can  we  suppose  this  in  reference 
to  justise,  merite,  office,  famyn,  Cupidc,rctorikc,   Virgil c,  pos 
sible,  Indc,  enemy,   mercy,   which  in  Chaucer's  time  had  just 
come   in  from   the  French,  retaining  still  their  native  French 
accent,  and  could  scarcely  have  undergone  a  change  of  vowel 
sound  so  sudden  and  extreme.      But    these  violent  supposi 
tions  are  only  to  be  avoided  by  admitting  that  the  first  words 
in  the  several   rhyming   pairs— wysc,   write,  vice,    wyn,   side, 
lyke,  while,   Bible,  fyndc,  sky,  why,   I,  by,  and  thcrby— still 


EA  RL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  257 

retained  in  the  fourteenth  century  their  primitive  sound  of  i 
as  (ii)  or  (//).  By  similar  evidence — less  abundant,  indeed,  yet 
sufficiently  decisive — it  is  shown  that  Chaucer's  ou  or  ow,  in 
hons,  hoiv,  rtfoc'^',  about c,  powrc,  doun,  broun,  fouude,  etc., 
had  not  yet  acquired  the  diphthongal  sound  which  it  bore  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  but  was  generally  pronounced  as  a  sim 
ple  (uuj  ;  only  where  the  on  or  ow  corresponded  to  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  ow,  azv,  did  it  have  a  diphthongal  pronunciation,  as 
(oouj.  And  in  like  manner  it  is  proved  that  a,  c,  o  had  the 
same  sounds  as  are  generally  given  to  those  vowels  in  the 
languages  of  continental  Europe. 

But  the  most  important,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  dif 
ficult  point  in  the  language  of  Chaucer  and  Gower  is  the  pro 
nunciation  of  the  final  unaccented  e.  Mr.  Ellis  has  greatly 
enriched  his  work  by  taking  into  it,  in  a  condensed  form,  the 
masterly  researches  oirthis  subject  by  Professor  Child  of  Har 
vard  University,  which  were  published  in  the  Memoirs  of  the 
American  Academy,  Vol.  IX.  Professor  Child  has  proved 
that  the  unaccented  final  e  was  generally  sounded  in  the 
poetry  of  Chaucer  and  Gower  ;  but  also  that  it  was  frequently 
silent.  Of  these  exceptional  cases,  he  is  able  to  refer  much 
the  greater  part  to  certain  general  principles  or  habits  ;  but 
others  seem  to  depend  on  the  mere  caprice  of  the  author,  and 
serve  to  indicate  a  varying  usage  and  a  progressive  tendency 
to  suppress  the  letter.  The  parallel  furnished  in  German 
poetry  by  the  frequent  and  capricious  omission  of  the  final 
e  is  noticed  by  Professor  Child  ;  though  here  the  influences 
of  education  and  literature  will  doubtless  save  the  letter  from 
total  extinction,  while  the  sensible  habit  of  leaving  it  unwrit 
ten  where  it  is  unpronounced  will  save  much  time  and  toil  to 
the  philologists  of  the  future. 

Mr.  Ellis  proposes  a  uniform  orthography  for  Chaucer, 
which  he  would  wish  to  apply  also  to  other  writers  of  the 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries.  It  is  founded  on  the  ortho 
graphy  of  the  Harleian  MS.,  already  referred  to  ;  the  usual 
modes  of  spelling  in  that  MS.,  the  representations  usually 
given  by  it  to  the  different  sounds  of  the  language  as  it  then 
was,  are  to  be  made  universal,  the  occasional  exceptions  being 
altered  into  conformity  with  the  general  rule.  It  is  the  spelling 
17 


258  EARLY  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

which  the  copyist  of  that  MS.  would  presumably  have  used  if 
he  had  been  intent  on  a  uniform  orthography.  A  text  of  the 
fourteenth  or  fifteenth  century,  printed  according  to  this  sys 
tem,  could  be  read  without  difficulty,  and  by  a  little  practice 
even  fluently,  with  a  pronunciation  not  widely  different  from 
that  of  its  own  time.  It  seems  to  us  desirable  that  some  such 
texts  should  be  prepared  and  printed  for  school  use.  If  a 
historical  study  of  the  English  language  and  literature  is  to  be 
made  common  in  our  educational  institutions,  it  is  important 
to  lessen,  in  some  degree  at  least,  the  difficulties  arising  from 
the  endless  and  needless  variations  of  Old-English  spelling. 
It  would  be  possible,  and  perhaps  expedient,  in  such  books, 
to  give  in  the  margin  the  actual  spelling  of  one  or  two  good 
manuscripts,  in  the  most  important  cases  where  it  differed 
from  that  used  in  the  text.  At  the  same  time  we  think  that, 
if  Chaucer  is  really  to  be  popularized,  it  can  only  be  done  by 
modernizing  his  orthography.  The  words  which  belong  to 
the  modern  language  must  appear  in  the  spelling  with  which 
all  are  familiar.  But  it  is  not  less  necessary  that  the  text 
should  be  so  given  that  it  can  be  read  rhythmically.  An  un 
certain  and  halting  rhythm,  which  fails  to  fulfil  its  own  pro 
mises,  and  is  continually  leaving  the  reader  in  the  lurch,  is  be 
yond  measure  disagreeable,  and  even  painful,  to  a  rhythmic 
ear  ;  plain  prose  is  infinitely  better  than  such  a  rhythm.  To 
cure  this  defect,  the  unaccented  c  must  be  supplied  just  as  far 
as  is  requisite  to  give  each  verse  a  proper  rhythmic  succession 
of  syllables  and  accents.  We  venture  to  add  the  opening 
lines  of  the  Prologue  to  the  Canterbury  Tales,  as  a  specimen 
of  the  arrangement  which  we  have*  in  mind.  Where  the  ac 
cent  of  a  word  varies  from  that  now  usual,  it  is  marked  in  the 
text  by  an  acute  over  the  vowel  of  the  accented  syllable.  A 
double  dot  over  an  e  which  is  now  silent  shows  that  it  is  to 
be  pronounced,  and  to  make  a  separate  syllable,  in  reading. 
A  small  circle  over  an  c  which  is  now  heard  shows  that  it  is 
to  be  suppressed,  or  at  least  that  it  does  not  count  as  a  sylla 
ble  in  the  verse.  The  double  clot  and  the  circle  may  also  be 
used  for  like  purposes  over  other  vowels.  Where  an  e  which 
is  not  written  even  now  has  to  be  supplied  in  reading,  it  is 
represented  by  a  reversed  apostrophe,  as  [']. 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  2  5  9 

"  When  that  April'  with  his  shower's  sweet 

The  drought  of^vlarch  hath  pierced  to  the  root, 

And  bathed  every  vein  in  such  liquor, 

Of  which  virtue  engendered  is  the  flower; — 

When  Zephi'rus  eke  with  his  sweet'  breath 

Inspired  hath  in  every  holt  and  heath 

The  tender  crop's,  and  the  young'  sun 

Hath  in  the  Ram  his  half  course  y-run, 

And  small'  fowl's  make  melody, 

That  sleep'  all  the  night  with  open  eye, 

So  pricketh  them  nature  in  their  a  corages  : — 

Then  long'  folk  to  go  on  pilgrimages, 

And  palmers  for  to  seek'  strange  strands 

To  b  feme  °halwes,  dkouthe  in  sundry  lands  ; 

And  specially,  from  every  shire's  end 

Of  Eng'land,  to  Canterbury  they  wend, 

The  holy  blissful  martyr  for  to  seek, 

That  them  hath  holpen  when  that  they  were  sick." 

"hearts.  **  distant.  c  saints.  d  known. 

In  such  a  text  we  should  have  a  genuine  Chaucer,  the  ipsa- 
verba,  if  not  the  ipsissimay  of  the  poet  himself.  But  it  would 
be  free  from  the  worst  of  those  stumbling-blocks  which  now 
vex  and  baffle  the  ordinary  reader.  The  general  aspect  of 
the  words  would  be  familiar  to  his  eye  ;  the  sense  would  be 
almost  or  quite  as  easy  to  comprehend  as  that  of  Shakespeare  ; 
and  the  lines  would  yield  without  pains  and  puzzling  a  rhythm 
fairly  satisfactory  to  the  ear.  In  thus  giving  to  Chaucer  a 
modernized  orthography,  we  should  only  be  treating  him  as 
we  do  Shakespeare  ;  no  editor  thinks  of  reproducing  the 
spelling  of  the  old  folios.  If  Shakespeare  were  accessible 
only  in  that  antiquated  orthography,  it  is  certain  that  the 
number  of  his  readers  and  the  extent  of  his  influence  would 
be  seriously  diminished. 

Since  the  foregoing  paragraphs  were  written,  we  have  re 
ceived  "  Part  II."  of  the  work  under  review.  This,  however, 
does  not  finish  the  book.  "On  account  of  the  unexpected 
length  "  of  the  author's  "  investigations,  the  Societies  for 
which  they  are  published  have  found  it  most  convenient  to 
divide  them  into /<?;/;'  parts,  instead  of  tivo,  as  previously  con 
templated."  This  second  part  contains  a  little  more  than  two. 


26o  EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TTON. 

hundred  pages,  of  which  about  two  thirds  are  occupied  with  the 
pronunciation  of  English  prior  to  the  fourteenth  century,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  Old  Icelandic,  and  Gothic  ; 
while  the  remainder  treats  of  the  correspondence  of  orthogra 
phy  with  pronunciation  from  Anglo-Saxon  times  to  the  present 
day.  A  hasty  glance  has  shown  us  that  it  is  rich  in  curious  and 
instructive  matter  ;  but  we  cannot  yet  undertake  to  criticise,  or 
even  to  describe,  its  contents.  We  will  speak  of  only  one 
point  which  has  chanced  to  attract  our  attention  while  turn 
ing  over  its  pages.  In  representing,  as  he  does  by  palaeo- 
typc,  the  original  pronunciation  of  various  specimen-texts  of 
early  English,  it  seems  to  us  that  Mr.  Kills  has  hardly  been 
as  careful  and  exact  as  could  have  been  desired  in  reference 
to  vowel  quantities.  That  he  has  been  satisfied  with  treating 
this  matter  somewhat  easily  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact 
that  he  occasionally  varies  from  himself  in  the  course  of  one 
or  two  pages.  Thus  asc,  '  as,'  in  selections  from  Dan  Michel, 
is  given  (aase)  on  page  412,  but  (asc)  on  page  413.  In  an 
extract  from  Richard  cle  Hampolc,  on  page  414,  the  adverb 
here  is  given  both  as  (lleer)  and  (ller).  In  a  paternoster,  on 
page  442,  we  find  in  forms  of  the  verb  do  both  (don)  and 
(miisdoon),  where,  too,  one  is  surprised  to  see  a  long  quantity 
in  the  prefix  mis  /  compare  also  (doon)  on  the  next  page. 
In  an  ave  and  credo,  on  page  443,  lauird,  Morel,'  is  repre 
sented  by  (laavird),  but  laucrd,  a  variation  of  the  same 
word,  by  (laverclV  On  the  same  page,  the  adjective  dcd, 
'dead/  appears  both  as  ided)  and  as  (deed);  and  the  im 
perative  of  the  verb  forgive  appears  as  (forgiiv),  but  the 
indicative  as  (forgiveth).  In  this  last  case,  if  any  distinction 
was  to  be  made,  we  might  have  expected  (forgiv)  and  (for- 
giiveth)  ;  authority  for  this  could  be  produced  from  the 
Ormulum.  In  the  proclamation  of  Henry  III.  (1258),  the 
ending  -liche>  the  modern  -ly(  appears  as  (-liitshe)  on  page 
501,  but  as  (-litshe)  on  page  503. 

The  English  language  has  sometimes  been  spoken  of  as 
having  wholly  lost  the  distinctions  of  vowel  quantity  which 
belonged  to  the  Anglo-Saxon;  as  if  it  stood  related  to  the 
mother  language  in  this  respect  as  the  French  is  related  to 
the  Latin,  or  the  modern  to  the  ancient  Greek.  It  is  true 


EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION.  261 

that,  in  comparing  Anglo-Saxon  with  English,  we  find  exten 
sive  changes  of  vowel  quantity.  Long  vowels,  where  they 
follow  the  accented  syllable,  have  been  shortened  almost 
uniformly.  Thus  the  Anglo-Saxon  -lice >  early  English  -licke 
(-liitshe),  has  become  ly  in  adjectives  and  adverbs  of  modern 
English.  But  in  accented  syllables,  if  we  mistake  not,  a 
careful  comparison  will  show7  that  the  vowel  quantity  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  has  been  preserved  in  a  majority  of  the  words 
which  have  come  to  us  from  that  source.  And  most  of  the 
changes,  whether  from  long  to  short  or  from  short,  to  long, 
can  be  referred  to  a  small  number  of  euphonic  principles  or 
tendencies.*  The  effect  of  a  weak  r  (before  a  consonant  or  at 
the  end  of  a  word)  to  lengthen  the  vowel  before  it,  as  in  far, 
aware,  horse,  etc.,  is  one  of  the  most  important  cases.  The 
similar  lengthening  before  Id  and  nd,  as  in  child,  find,  etc., 
is  as  old  as  the  thirteenth  century,  being  the  general  rule  in 
the  Ormulum  ;  and  it  is  a  fair  question  whether  child  and  wild 
on  page  483,  and  Jiundcs,  '  hounds,'  on  page  479,  should  not 
have  been  given  with  a  long  vowel.  Still  more  numerous 
changes  have  been  occasioned  by  the  tendency  to  lengthen 
the  short  vowel  of  an  accented  penult  when  separated  by  only 
one  consonant  sound  from  the  following  unaccented  vowel. 
The  long  sounds  in  water,  naked,  evil,  open,  etc.,  owe  their 
origin  to  this  tendency  ;  and  so  do  those  in  name,  make,  law, 
eat,  hope,  and  a  multitude  of  others,  which  originally  ended 
in  an  unaccented  syllable.  Now  this  tendency  also  is  found 
in  the  Ormulum,  which  carries  it  to  a  greater  extent  even  than 
modern  English  :  thus,  narrow),  heavy,  body,  love,  give,  writ 
ten,  summer,  etc.,  are  found  in  the  Ormulum  with  a  long 
vowel  in  the  first  of  their  two  syllables.  In  such  cases  as 
these,  the  modern  English  agrees  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  in 
using  a  short  vowel  ;  a  fact  which  shows  that  the  long  vowel 
could  not  have  been  universal  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the 
time  of  the  Ormulum.  We  think  that  Mr.  Ellis,  who  writes 
a  long  vowel  in  some  of  these  words — such  as  give,  written, 
summer — in  other  works  of  that  century,  would  have  done 
better  to  give  them  short,  as  in  Anglo-Saxon  and  mod 
ern  English.  Still  less  can  we  approve  of  his  writing  in 
*  See  the  next  following  article. 


262  EARL  Y  ENGLISH  PR  ON  UN  CIA  TION. 

cases  where  it  is  at  variance  with  the  Anglo-Saxon,  the 
Ormulum,  and  the  modern  English,  together  :  as  in  (wen)  for 
wen  (page  412),  A.  S.  wen,  Orm.  wettenn,  'to  ween/' 
(leev)  for  Icve  (page  414),  A.  S.  lifian,  Orm.  libbcnn,  '  to 
live ;  '  (gret)  for  grete  (page  479),  A.  S.  great,  Orm.  greet, 
'  great.'  It  is  not  unlikely,  however,  that  some  of  these 
cases  are  mere  errors  of  the  press. 

We  hope  that  Mr.  Ellis,  in  the  parts  yet  to  appear,  may 
regard  this  matter  of  vowel  quantity  as  worthy  of  a  closer  at 
tention  than  he  seems  thus  far  to  have  given  it  ;  and  may 
thus  add  to  the  completeness  and  exactness  of  his  admirable 
work, 


XV. 

ON   ENGLISH    VOWEL    QUANTITY  IN  THE    THIR 
TEENTH  CENTURY  AND  IN  THE    NINETEENTH. 

1871. 

IT  is  a  well-known  fact  that  the  Modern  Greek  has  lost  the 
system  of  vowel  quantity  which  belonged  to  the  ancient  lan 
guage  :  Kofjiij,  '  hair,'  and  K^^TI,  '  village,'  are  pronounced 
alike  by  the  Modern  Greek  ;  nor  is  it  otherwise  with  \vcreis, 
'  thou  wilt  loose,'  and  \6a-is,  (  a  loosing.'  In  like  manner,  the 
Romanic  languages  have  lost  the  system  of  vowel  quantity 
which  belonged  to  the  ancient  Latin.  Thus  the  Italian  and 
Spanish  mano,  rosa,  French  main,  rose,  are  alike  in  vowel 
sound  with  Italian  and  Spanish  vano,  prosa,  French  vain, 
prose,  though  the  former  come  from  Latin  manus,  rosa,  and 
the  latter  from  vanus,  prosa.  It  is  an  interesting  question 
whether  our  own  language  has  had  in  this  respect  the  same 
experience  as  the  Modern  Greek  and  the  Romanic  tongues  ; 
whether  we  have  wholly  lost  those  distinctions  of  vowel  quan 
tity  which  undoubtedly  belonged  to  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  we  have  no  proper  distinction  of 
long  and  short  quantity  in  English  :  all  our  vowels  are  alike  in 
quantity  ;  they  are  all  equally  susceptible  of  prolongation  and 
abridgment  ;  or  rather,  any  vowel  rnay  be  so  prolonged  as  to 
exceed  the  ordinary  quantity  of  any  other  :  thus,_/z//  may  be 
•  so  prolonged  in  utterance  as  to  take  more  time  than  is  ordina 
rily  given  to  feel  or  file.  But  this  must  have  been  the  case 
also  with  Greek  and  Latin  vowels  :  their  absolute  time  was 
not  fixed,  but  variable.  One  speaker  must  have  talked  faster 
or  slower  than  another  ;  the  same  speaker  must  have  talked 
faster  or  slower  at  one  time  than  at  another  ;  even  on  the  same 
occasion  one  sentence  or  clause  must  have  been  uttered  faster 
or  slower  than  another  :  and  thus  it  could  hardly  fail  to  hap 
pen  that  a  short  vowel  would  sometimes  have  a  longer  sound 


264  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

than  the  ordinary  or  average  quantity  of  a  long  vowel.  But 
the  average  quantity  of  a  short  vowel  was  less  than  the 
average  for  a  long  one  ;  or,  with  the  same  general  rapidity  of 
utterance,  the  quantity  of  long  vowels  exceeded  the  quantity 
of  short.  I  say  simply,  the  quantity  of  long  vowels  exceeded, 
was  greater  than,  the  quantity  of  short  ;  not  that  the  former 
was  just  double  the  latter.  It  may  be  presumed  that  in  ordi 
nary  spoken  utterance  there  was  not  any  so  exact  relation  ; 
with  the  same  tempo,  the  long  might  equal  I  y2  of  the  short, 
or  1 5/£  of  the  short,  or  I3/^  of  the  short,  as  well  as  just  2  ;  and 
probably  the  average  actual  ratio  was  rather  less  than  2  to  I  ; 
the  average  long  would  occupy  rather  less  than  twice  the  time 
of  the  average  short.  The  fixing  of  2  to  I  as  the  precise  nu 
merical  relation  was  probably  the  work  of  rhythmopceia,  or 
of  rhythmopceia  and  melopceia  together.  When  longs  and 
shorts  were  combined  in  rhythmic  composition,  and  especially 
when  a  musical  accompaniment  was  added,  the  longs  and 
shorts  must  have  a  definite  and  fixed  ratio  to  each  other  ;  and 
the  ratio  of  two  to  one  was  the  most  simple,  obvious  and 
convenient. 

Now  as  regards  our  English  syllables,  it  is  certain  that  we 
have  nearly  or  quite  lost  the  feeling  of  length  by  position. 
By  this  I  mean  that  we  do  not  recognize  a  short  vowel  fol 
lowed  by  two  consonants  as  having  any  distinct  relation  to  a 
long  vowel  followed  by  one  consonant.  We  can  perceive,  of 
course,  that  there  is  more  sound  in  fist  than  in  fit,  and  more 
sound  in  fight  than  \\\  fit  ;  but  we  do  not  recognize  any 
special  relation  of  quantity  between  fist  ai\<\fght.  But  in  re 
ference  to  vowel  sounds,  it  should  seem  that  our  case  is  not 
essentially  different  from  that  of  the  ancient  Greeks  and 
Romans.  There  are  certain  sounds  which,  with  the  same 
tempo,  the  same  general  rapidity  of  utterance,  we  recognize 
as  occupying  more  time  than  others  ;  we  thus  recognize  the 
former  as  long,  the  latter  as  short.  It  is  true,  the  English 
short  vowels  differ  somewhat  in  quality  of  sound — that  is,  in 
position  of  the  speech  organs — from  the  long  vowels  which 
most  nearly  resemble  them,  the  short  being  a  little  more  open 
than  the  corresponding  long  :  there  is  a  more  open  sound  in 
fill  than  mfcei,  in/?///  than  in  fool,  in  fell  than  in  fail,  etc. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  26$ 

But  this  does  not  affect  the  relation  of  quantity.  It  is  clear 
that  we  have  long  vowel  sounds  in  file  and  foul,  in  feel  and 
fool,  in  fail  and  foal,  and  in  fall ;  and  that  we  have  short 
vowel  sounds  in  fill  and  full,  \\\  fell,  in  doll,  in  dally,  in  dull. 
Pronounce  the  two  series  in  succession  :  on  the  one  hand,  file, 
foul,  fed,  fool,  fail,  foal,  fall ;  on  the  other,  ///,  /////,  fell, 
doll,  dally,  dull — the  difference  of  quantity  is  manifest  and 
unmistakable. 

If  then  we  have  long  and  short  vowels  clearly  distinguished 
from  each  other,  it  becomes  a  matter  of  interest  to  inquire 
whether  the  distinction  is  recent  or  ancient ;  whether,  and  how 
far,  the  vowels  now  sounded  long  or  sounded  short  were 
sounded  long  or  short  respectively  in  early  periods  of  the 
language.  The  question  here  raised  is  not  whether  our  vowels 
have  kept  the  same  sounds,  but  whether  they  have  kept  the 
same  quantities.  It  matters  not  that  long  a  has  passed  from  its 
original  sound  (of  all]  to  that  heard  mfamc;  long  e,  from  the 
sound  in  prey  to  that  in  key  /  long  /,  from  the  sound  in  pique 
to  that  in  pike  /  long  o,  from  the  sound  in  bone  to  that  in 
boon  /  long  u,  from  the  sound  in  prude  to  that  in  proud. 
These  changes  have  taken  place  to  a  very  great  extent,  but 
they  do  not  affect  the  question  now  before  us  :  the  old  long 
vowel  remains  long  still.  So  if  the  short  vowels  I,  •#,  u  (in 
fill,  full,  fell)  have  become  a  little  more  open  ;  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  has  generally  become  closer  (as  in  dally},  ap 
proaching  the  sound  of  <5  (in  dell)  ;  if  the  old  6-  has  disap 
peared  altogether,  passing  into  a  sound  more  open  than  that  of 
a  in  fall,  and  often  described  as  its  corresponding  short  (thus 
fall,  folly)  ;  if  ft,  and  sometimes  other  short  vowels,  have 
sunk  into  the  obscure  and  undistinguished  sound  heard  in 
dull,  done — these  changes  do  not  concern  us  here,  as  the  old 
short  vowel  still  remains  short. 

In  the  inquiry  whether,  and  how  far,  we  can  trace  back  the 
present  long  and  short  quantities  of  English  vowels,  we  find 
our  best  guide  and  help  in  a  single  (and  singular)  production 
of  early  English  literature.  I  refer  to  the  Ormulum,  so  called 
from  the  name  of  its  author,  the  monk  Orm,  or  Ormin,  who 
-wrote  in  the  eastern  part  of  England,  some  time  in  the  thir 
teenth  century,  or  fully  six  hundred  years  ago.  A  series  of 


266  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  + 

metrical  homilies  on  the  successive  daily  lessons  of  the  church 
service,  its  interest  is  philological  much  more  than  literary. 
In  the  only  manuscript  from  which  it  is  known  to  us — not 
improbably  the  only  manuscript  of  it  that  was  ever  written 
— we  find  on  the^part  of  the  writer  a  careful  and  systematic 
regard  to  vowel  quantity.  He  has  a  spelling  of  his  own,  to 
which  he  adheres  with  much  consistency  ;  and  in  this  spelling 
the  most  peculiar  and  conspicuous  feature  is  the  doubling  of 
every  consonant  which  follows  a  short  vowel.  There  was  a 
tendency  to  this  in  the  general  English  orthography  even  at 
that  early  period  ;  what  is  remarkable  in  this  author  is  that 
he  consciously  carried  out  this  tendency  as  a  uniform  and  uni 
versal  rule.  Thus  he  writes  it  with  a  double  /,  if  with  a 
double/",  hundred  with  a  double  ;/  and  a  double  d,  lastctli 
with  a  double  s  and  a  double  sign  for  th.  So  much  is  he  at 
tached  to  this  spelling,  in  spite  of  its  strange  and  whimsical 
appearance,  that  in  a  preliminary  address  (seemingly  very 
little  needed)  to  the  future  copyist  he  insists  upon  a  careful 
conformity  to  it : — 

Annd  tatt  he  lokc  wcl  tatt  he 

An  boc staff  write  twi^css, 
E^w/uer  thccr  itt  uppo  tliiss  boc 

Iss  writcnn  o  thatt  wise. 
Lokc  he  well  thatt  Jict  write  swa, 

Forr  he  nc  ma\\  nohht  clless 
Onn  EnngJissJi  write/in  riJiJit  te  word 

Thatt  wife  he  wcl  to  sothc. 

Which  may  be  modernized  thus,  in  the  same  measure,  all  but 
the  unaccented  ending  of  the  even  lines  :  — 

And  that  he  look  [full]  well  that  he 

A  letter  write  twice  [over], 
Wherever  it  upon  this  book 

Is  written  on  that  wise. 
Look  he  well  that  he  write  it  so 

For  he  (nc)  may  not  else 
In  English  write  aright  the  word, 

That  wit  he  well  to  sooth. 

Thus  then  the  spelling  of  the  Ormulum  enables  us  to  say, 
in  the  case   of  every  vowel  followed   by   a   consonant  in   the 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  267 

same  word,  whether  the  author  pronounced  it — or,  at  least, 
supposed  that  he  pronounced  it — long  or  short.  In  order 
now  to  arrive  at  some  general  conclusions  as  to  the  persis 
tence  of  vowel  quantity  in  English,  I  have  looked  through  the 
vocabulary  of  the  Ormulum,  as  presented  with  much  fulness 
and  clearness  in  the  second  volume  of  White's  edition  (Oxford, 
1852),  and  have  noted  the  words  which  survive  in  the  English 
of  to-day,  including  some  few  which,  though  lost  out  of  the 
common  language,  are  still  generally  known  from  their  use  in 
literary  works  of  the  modern  period.  I  propose  to  state  the 
general  results  of  this  comparison  between  the  quantities  of 
words  as  indicated  in  the  Ormulum,  and  the  quantities  of  the 
same  words  as  heard  in  modern  English.  It  should  be  said 
that  the  vocabulary  of  the  Ormulum  is  not  large.  The  work 
is  nearly  as  long  as  the  Odyssey  ;  but  the  number  of  different 
words  used  in  it  is  much  smaller  than  in  the  Greek  poem. 
There  is  a  great  sameness,  a  wearisome  sameness,  in  the 
contents  of  the  book  :  the  leading  facts,  principles,  and  pre 
cepts*  of  the  Christian  system  are  repeated  over  and  over 
again  with  little  variety  of  expression.  Still  there  are  words 
enough  to  give  a  fair  idea  of  the  relation  between  the  vowel 

o  o 

quantities  of  Saxon  English  six  hundred  years  ago  and  those 
of  Saxon  English  at  the  present  time.  I  say  "  Saxon  Eng 
lish,"  because  few  Latin  words  (aside  from  those  already 
taken  into  the  Anglo-Saxon),  and  fewer  French  words,  are  to 
be  found  in  the  Ormulum.  Its  language  is  as  purely  Teu 
tonic  as  the  modern  German. 

The  most  general  statement  suggested  by  the  extended 
comparison  of  which  I  have  been  speaking  is  this  :  that  in  the 
great  majority  of  cases  the  vowels  which  had  a  long  sound  six 
hundred  years  ago  are  long  now  ;  those  which  had  a  short 
sound  then  are  short  now  And  -if  the  exceptions  are  pretty 
numerous — if  in  a  good  many  cases  the  long  sound  of  the 
Ormulum  corresponds  to  a  modern  short,  or  the  short  sound 
of  the  Ormulum  to  a  modern  long — most  of  these  exceptional 
cases  depend  on  a  few  obvious  conditions,  on  clearly  marked 
euphonic  influences  and  tendencies,  so  that  cases  of  capri 
cious  variation,  of  variation  without  apparent  principle,  are 
comparatively  few.  It  will  probably  be  most  instructive,  if 


268  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

we  consider  first  (and  indeed,  chiefly)  these  euphonic  condi 
tions  and  tendencies  which  have  led  to  differences  of  quantity 
between  the  language  of  six  hundred  years  ago  and  that  of 
to-day. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  let  us  look  at  the  cases  where  the 
loss  of  a  consonant  sound  has  occasioned  the  lengthening  of  a 
short  vowel  before  it :  as  in  alms,  O.  allmcss  ;  buy,  O.  biggcnn, 
and  the  like.  Such  changes  can  hardly  be  considered  as  vio 
lations  of  the  old  system  of  quantities.  If  there  is  here  an 
alteration,  an  increase,  of  vowel  quantity,  it  only  takes  the 
place  of  a  consonant  quantity  withdrawn.  It  is  simply  that 
the  time  before  occupied  by  a  vowel  and  consonant  is  now 
occupied  by  the  vowel  prolonged.  This  is  sometimes  de 
scribed  as  an  absorption  of  the  consonant  by  the  vowel, 
sometimes  as  a  vocalization  of  the  consonant.  Neither  of 
these  expressions  gives  a  distinct  idea  of  the  nature  of  the 
change.  Of  course,  in  every  instance  of  the  kind  there  must 
have  been  a  time  of  transition,  when  the  consonant  was  be 
ginning  to  be  omitted,  when  the  very  speakers  who  omitted 
it  were  perfectly  aware  of  its  existence,  and  perhaps  generally 
pronounced  it,  but  occasionally  let  it  drop,  with  a  lengthening 
of  the  preceding  vowel.  Now  this  consciousness  of  a  conso 
nant  with  a  claim  to  be  pronounced  is  an  important  element 
in  the  phenomenon.  The  speaker  who  does  not  really  pro 
nounce  it  does  not  feel  that  he  can  omit  it  altogether  ;  he 
does  not  feel  that  he  is  altogether  omitting  it.  To  his  own 
feeling,  he  gives  it  a  kind  of  recognition.  He  perhaps  brings 
the  organs  of  speech  into  some  sort  of  approach  toward  the 
position  required  for  pronouncing  the  consonant,  so  that  the 
preceding  vowel  passes  into  a  sound  more  or  less  modified, 
which  does  duty  for  the  consonant.  If  this  modification  con 
tinues  to  be  made,  then  the  resulting  long  vowel-sound  will 
not  be  a  mere  simple  prolongation  of  the  preceding  short,  but 
something  different,  perhaps  a  diphthong.  Yet  it  may  very 
well  happen  that,  in  this  ^z/mz-pronunciation  of  the  consonant, 
the  approach  made  by  the  organs  to  the  position  for  that  con 
sonant  will  grow  more  and  more  slight,  and  the  sound  pro 
duced  will  differ  less  and  less  from  a  mere  continuation  of  the 
preceding  vowel ;  until  finally — and  perhaps  very  soon — it 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  269 

:omes  to  be  just  that  and  nothing  else,  and  the  consonant  is 
replaced,  as  its  claim  for  utterance  is  felt  to  be  satisfied,  by  a 
simple  addition  of  quantity  to  the  preceding  vowel.  But, 
whatever  may  be  thought  as  to  the  rationale  of  the  process, 
it  is  one  of  which  we  find  numerous  instances  in  comparing 
the  Semi-Saxon  of  the  Ormulum  with  modern  English.  Thus 
where  /,  followed  by  another  consonant,  has  been  suppressed 
in  utterance,  though  still  retained  in  writing,  the  short  vowel 
before  it  has  become  long  in — 

O.  alluiess  (alms),  A.  S.  Cdmesse,  Lat.  clcemosyna. 
calif  (calf '),  A.  S.  cealf. 
follc  (folk,  people),  A.  S.folc. 
hallf  (half,  behalf},  A.  S.  hcalf. 
illc  (each,  every,  Sc.  ilk),  A.  S.  illc,  clc,  ylc. 
sallfe  (salve,  ointment),  A.  S.  scalf. 
sallme  (psalm),  A.  S.  scalm,  Lat.  psa Imu s. 

In  should  (O.  sJwllde),  would  (O.  wollde  and  woldc),  we 
have  a  short  vowel  sound  ;  but  we  may  see  from  the  OIL  that 
the  vowel  was  first  lengthened  (sJioii  d,  luou'd,  with  ou  as  in 
youtlt)  ;  though  afterward  it  became  short  again,  by  a  new 
and  independent  change,  similar  to  that  by  which  good  and 
stood  have  received  their  present  short  pronunciation.  The 
same  change  has  occurred  also  in  could,  which  never  had  an 
I  actually  sounded.  The  Ormulum,  like  the  Anglo-Saxon, 
has  catlic,  in  which  the  til  became  d,  and  the  vowel  was  after 
ward  shortened.  As  people  were  accustomed  to  write  a 
silent  /  in  should,  would,  and  regarded  could  as  a  word  of 
similar  character,  they  put  a  silent  /  into  that  also.  There 
would  have  been  more  propriety  in  the  insertion  of  a  silent  ;/  ; 
for  this  letter  belongs  to  the  root  as  seen  in  can.  It  is  a  fea 
ture  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  in  its  earliest  known  form  that  it 
drops  11  before  th  or  s,  and  lengthens  the  preceding  vowel  :  as 
gos  (goose]  for  gans,  sodh  (sooth)  for  santh  (which  means 
'  being,  existing,'  and  is  identical  with  Lat.  -sens,  in  praesens, 
-scntis)  ;  and  so  cudhc  for  cunt  he  (could). 

Again,  where  g  has  been  suppressed  in  utterance,  the  short 
vowel  before  it  has  become  long  in — 

O.  biggenn  (to  buy),  abiggcnn  (to  aby,  pay  for),  A.  S.  byegan,  dbycgan. 
leggcnn  (to  lay),  A.  S.  Iccgan. 
scggenn  (to  say),  A.  S.  secgaii.    ' 


270  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

But  in  most  cases  of  this  kind  the  g  appears  in  the  Ormulum 
softened  into  the  consonant  /-sound  (:»),  which  after  the  short 
vowel  is  written  double  (]])  :  thus— 

O.  daft  (day'},  pi.  datfess,  daftess,  A.  S.  dr>g,  pi.  dagas. 
driftc  (dry},  A.  S.  drygc. 
eftlenn  (to  ail),  A.  S.  eg/an. 
either  r  (cither),  A.  S.  agdher. 
faftcrr  (fair),  A.  S.fXger. 
fteftl(  flail),  Gcrm.flcgel,  *L%.\..  flagellum. 

geftncnn  (to  gain),ga$/icnn  (gain},  O.  N.  gagn  (advantage). 
geftnlikc  (aptly,   cf.    ungainly),   O.  N.  gcgn  (apt,  clever),  A.  S.  un- 

gagne  (of  no  effect). 

laft  (lay),  from  lin  (to  lie),  A.  S.  %%  from  licgan. 
left   (impv.  /«/),  /^Jrtfe  toW),   from  ^ggemi,  A.  S.  /^r,  /^^,   from 


ma  ^  (lie  ;;/^y),  A.  S.  ;;///£•. 

wmj,^  (w^y,  maid),  A.  S.  imrg  (femina,  virgo). 

maftdcfin  (maiden),  A.  S.  mfigden. 

naftlcnn  (to  nail),  A.  S.  niiglian. 

rcftii  (rain),  A.  S.  n^//. 

soft   (impv.  say),  seftt/i   (sait/i),  seftdc  (said),  from  seggcnn,   A.    S. 

scge,  s  eg  d  It,  s<!gde,  from  sccgan. 
inn-sc^lcss  (seals),  A.  S.  sigcl,  inscgel.     , 
tiveftoin  (twain),  A.  S.  twcgcn. 
twiftcss  (twice),  also  twiyss,  A.  S.  /w/><7  (/  ?). 
thriftess  (thrice),  also  thriyss,  A.  S.  thriga  (I  ?). 
•2X'«^(//  (waggon,  wain),  A.  S.  w'ign,  ween. 
wefte  (way),  awe.ft,  awc-fte  (away),  A.  S.  w/^,  6weg. 

In  eythcrr,  ma\\  (maid),  and  perhaps  in  twz'ycss  and  tJiri"css, 
a  long  vowel  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  is  found  shortened  (in  the 
last  two,  however,  not  uniformly)  in  the  Ormulum.  This 
shortening  may  perhaps  be  explained  as  the  consequence  of 
an  effort  to  make  the  feeble  }  more  fully  audible.  The  vowel 
may  have  been  passed  over  -lightly  in  order  that  a  greater 
force  of  utterance  might  be  brought  to  bear  on  the  weak  con 
sonant  following  it,  so  as  to  give  this  a  distinct  enunciation. 
,It  would  be  perfectly  natural,  too,  that  the  speakers  of  the 
language  should  become  at  length  weary  of  this  effort  required 
for  the  weak  consonant  ;  and  that  they  should  then  allow  the 
consonant  to  be  replaced  by  a  mere  continuance  of  the  pre 
ceding  vowel,  which  would  thus  recover  its  primitive  long 
quantity. 


ENGLISH  VO  WEL  Q  UANTITY.  2  / 1 

In  the  word  master  (O.  r,ia\-stre,  A.  S.  uiagcstre,  mogstrc, 
Lat.  magistcr)  we  do  not  lengthen  the  vowel  :  here  the  Scot 
tish  waist cr  shows  the  truer  (that  is,  the  more  analogical)  pro 
nunciation.  In  saith  and  said,  the  lengthened  vowel  sound 
which  once  belonged  to  them  is  still  indicated  by  the  ai  with 
which  they  are  written. 

The  5;  of  the  Ormulum  is  not  always  to  be  traced  to  an 
original  £*.  In  some  instances  it  seems  to  have  arisen  from 
the  diphthong  ei  in  the  Old  Norse,  the  language  of  the  so- 
called  Danes  who  came  as  invaders  and  settlers  into  eastern 
England  :  the  vocabulary  of  the  Ormulum  shows  evident 
marks  of  a  Norse  influence.  Thus  the  plural  pronouns  thc^l 
(they),  tJie\\rc  (their),  tJie\\m  (them)  are  not  to  be1  explained 
from  A.  S.  tlia,  tliara,  t/idni,  but  from  O.  N.  their,  tJicirra, 
theim  /  rc\\scnn  (to  raise],  not  from  A.  S.  rasian,  but  from 
O.  N.  rcisa  ;  hc\\lcnn  (to  hail,  salute),  not  from  A.  S.  Jial, 
but  from  the  corresponding  O.  N.  /^zY/(sanus,  salvus),  which, 
like  E.  hail,  was  often  used  in  salutations.  So  a]]  (aye,  al 
ways,  ever)  is  perhaps  to  be  explained  from  O.  N.  czi,  ei,  ey, 
which  correspond  to  A.  S.  awa  j  while  na\\  (nay}  may  be  a 
mere  compound  of  nc  and  a\\.  The  genitive  Kc\\scrcss,  usu 
ally  Kascrcss,  from  Kascre  (Ccesar,  Emperor),  might  be  ac 
counted  for  in  the  same  way  ;  but  for  the, 55  in  bcy-.sannz  (be- 
zcfnts,  .coined  in  Byzantiuwi),  and  in  the  proper  name  R\\noc 
(Enoch),  'we  have  no  explanation  to  offer. 

Yet  again,  where  a  consonant  h  has  been  suppressed  in  ut 
terance,  the  short  vowel  before  it  has  become  long  in  many 
words.  I  say  "  a  consonant  /i,"  for  the  Anglo-Saxon  //, 
where  it  stands  at  the  end  of  a  syllable  or  is  followed  by  t  or 
th  (dJi),  must  be  regarded  as  a  true  consonant.  Thus  in — 

O.  bohhtc  (bought), from  biggenn  (to  buy],  A.  S.  bolitc,  from  bycgan. 
brihht  (bright],  A.  S.  bcorht,  byrht,  bryht. 
brohhte  (brought},    from  bringcnn    (to  bring),  A.    S.    brohte,    from 

bringan. 

cnihhtess  (servants,  soldiers,  cf.  knight],  A.  S.  cniht. 
dohhtcrr  (daughter},  A.  S.  dnhtor. 
drohh  (drew),  also  droh,  from  draihenn  (to  draw],  A.  S.  drog,  from 

drag  an . 
drulihthe  (drougJif],  A.  S.  drugadh. 

i^  (virtuous,  cf.  doughty],  A.  S.  dyhtig. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

O,  chhtc  (eight),  ehhtennde  (eighth},  A.  S.  cahta,  eahtodha,  O.  N.  attundi. 
/'•^//t?/6; .(revenflq,  money,  cf./tr),  A.  S.feoh,fe6. 
fili-hfenn-^fight),  A.  S.feohian. 
Jlihht  (flight),  A.  S.^j///. 

bi-kahht  (caught) ,  also  bikccchcdd  (catched)  ;  of  doubtful  origin. 
///////  (//^/,  Icvis),  A.  S.  /^///  (/'///). 
///////  (//>///,  lux),  A.  S.  leoht  (lyht). 

mahhi,  mihht  (might},  ;;///////<•  (he  might},  A.  S.  meaht,  mi /it,  mihtc. 
nahht,  nihht  (night),  A.  S.  neaht,  niht. 

nohht  (nought,  not},  A.  S.  naht,  nlijUit,  from  ne  and  aiuiht. 
ohJit  (aught},  A.  S.  ^///,  contracted  from  awiht. 
plihht  (danger,  state,  ci.  plight},  A.  S.  pliht. 
rihht  (right},  A.  S.  riht. 
saJih  (saui),  from  scon,  sen  (to  ^r),  A.   S.  scah,  from  j<?/5«  y  but  see 

p.  293. 
sihhthc  (sight,  appearance),   iunsihht  (insight,  knowledge),  A.    S. 

gesihdh. 

sohhtc  (sought},  from  sckcnn  (to  seek},  A.  S.  soJitc,  from  sccan. 
tahhtc  (taught},  from  tccchenn  (to  teach},  A.  S.  tcehte,  from  ttccan. 
thohh  (though},  A.  S.  ///«/'//. 
thohhtc  (he  thought},  from  thcnnkcnn  (to  think},  A.  S.  thohte,  from 

thencan. 
thuhhtc  (seemed,  cf.  mcthoiighi},  from  thinnkcnn($.Q  seem),  A.  S. 

thnhte,  from  thyncan. 

tuchhtc  (wciglif),  A.  S.  innht,  gciviht,  from  vegan  (to  weigh}, 
•wihht  (being,  person,  cf.  vigJit},  A.  S.  luiJit.' 
ivrihJitc  (maker,  worker,  cf.  wright),  A.  S.  ivyrhta. 
ivroJiJitc  (wrong Jit},  from  wirrkciin  {to  work],  A.  S.  ivorhte,  ivrohtc, 

from  ivy r can. 

In  some  of  these  words  (doJiJitcrr,  drohh,  HJiJit,  lililit, 
nohht,  ohht,  sohhte,  tahlitc,  ihohJi)  we  find  a  shortening  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  long  vowel,  similar  to  that  just  noticed  in 
e\\thcrr,  ma]],  etc.,  and  explainable  in  the  manner  then  pro 
posed  ;  though  the  combination  of  consonants  (Jit),  which  in 
most  of  them  follows  the  vowel,  may  have  had  something  to 
do  with  its  change  of  quantity. 

Lastly,  in  a  number  of  words  which  in  the  Ormulum  have 
the  consonant  w  repeated,  showing  that  the  vowel  before  it 
was  then  sounded  short,  this  consonant  is  lost  in  English  (or, 
at  least,  has  no  consonant  powen,  and  the  vowel  sound  is 
long.  Such  arc— 

O.  chewwenn  (to  chcii.},  A.  S.  ccoivan. 

dawwess  (hoofs,  cf.  claw},  A.  S.  eld,  clawu,  pi.  clan'". 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

O.  cnewwe  (Knee),  pi.  cncwwess,  cnes,  A.  S.  crt 
dcewwenn  (to  bedew],  from  daw  (dew),  A.  S. 
fowwerr^fowwre  (four),  foivw  err  ti^  (forty),  A.  ^Tjeo-My jjdowertig. 
strawwenn  (to  straw,  straw),  A.  S.  streowiati,  strcdwian, 
throwwinnge  (three,  suffering),  A.  S.  throwuing. 
trewwcss  (trees),  also  treos,  tres,  sing,  treo,  A.  S.  treow,  treo. 
trowwe  (true},  trowwenn  (to  trow),  trowwthe  (trutJi),  A.  S.  treowe, 
treow ian,  trebwdh. 


In  most  of  these  words  we  see  an  Anglo-Saxon  long  vowel 
shortened  before  the  weak  w,  as  we  have  already  seen  it  be 
fore  h  and  3.  In  nozwwharr  (nowhere),  the  shortening — which 
may  be  compared  to  that  of  no  in  English  nothing — really 
takes  place  before  Ji,  the  true  order  of  the  sounds  being  that 
represented  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  orthography,  nahwcer.  The 
words  owwtherr,  noivwtherr  (A.  S.  dwdher,  ndwdher),  have 
the  sense  -of  either,  neither  ;  but  these  last  connect  themselves 
with  A.  S.  (Bgdher.  The  form  uowwt  (cattle,  Sc.  nowt)  is  to 
be  explained  from  O.  N.  nant,  while  English  neat  corresponds 
to  A.  S.  neat.  In  these  words,  where  the  ww  precedes  a 
consonant,  its  sound  can  hardly  have  differed  very  much  from 
that  of  the  vowel  u.  Indeed  the  Latin  au  is  represented  by 
aww  in  clawwstremann  (cloister-man,  monk)  from  Lat.  clans- 
trnm,  and  in  the  proper  name  Sannt  Awwstin  (Saint  Austin, 
Augustine),  though  the  Emperor  (Kas err- king)  Augustus  ap 
pears  as  Angnsstnss. 

We  have  now  reviewed  all  the  cases  where  a  consonant, 
which  in  the  time  of  the  Ormulum  was  heard  after  a  short 
vowel,  is  lost  in  modern  English  ;  and  we  have  seen  that  in 
all  but  a  very  few  (should,  would,  saith,  said,  master,  them, 
not),  the  preceding  vowel  is  long  in  our  present  pronuncia 
tion  :  even  for  these  few,  there  is  evidence  that  the  most 
have  been  pronounced  with  long  vowel  sound,  though  that  in 
more  recent  times  has  become  short. 

The  next  important  point  we  have  to  consider  is  the  effect 
of  a  weak  r  on  the  preceding  short  vowel.  By  weak  r  I  mean 
to  designate  that  peculiar  sound  of  the  letter  which  it  has  as 
sumed  in  our  present  English,  wherever  it  stands  before  a 
consonant  or  at  the  end  of  a  word — as  \i\  far ,  farm,  for ,  form, 
fur,  firm.  This  is  evidently  weaker  than  the  sound  of  r  in 
18 


274  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

farrow,  forest,  borough,  merit,  spirit,  etc.  According  to  Mr. 
Ellis,  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  English  Grammar  of  1640,  is  the 
earliest  writer  who  gives  any  sign  of  having  recognized  this 
distinction  between  a  stronger  and  a  weaker  r  in  the  pronun 
ciation  of  our  language.  Perhaps  the  phenomenon  itself,  the 
weakening  of  r  where  it  is  final  or  followed  by  a  consonant, 
may  not  be  much  older  than  that  time.  In  the  dialectic  pro 
nunciation  of  the  Irish,  which  has  in  many  points  preserved 
the  older  English  sounds,  it  has  not  yet  established  itself. 
This  weak  r  is  most  easily  produced  after  the  neutral  vowel, 
so  called,  which  is  heard  as  short  in  cub,  cud,  and  as  long  in 
curb,  curd.  Except  after  the  sounds  of  ah  and  au  (as  in  far, 
for),  this  u  sound  is  always  heard  before  a  weak  r  :  thus  it 
comes  in,  as  a  brief  yet  perceptible  element,  after  the  proper 
vowel  in  fire,  flour,  fear,  four,  fare.  When  the  preceding 
vowel  was  a  short  i  or  e,  this  has  been  overpowered  by  and 
merged  in  the  following  u  sound.  Thus  fir  and  her  are  not 
distinguished  in  pronunciation  from/"?/;'  and  Hur.  The  short 
u  itself  becomes  long  when  this  consonant  follows  it  :  as  we 
see  in  comparing  burgh  with  burrow,  where  the  first  has  a 
long  sound  before  weak  r,  the  second  a  short  one  before 
common  r.  The  point  with  which  we  are  now  concerned  is 
this,  that  the  weak  r,  whether  heard  at  the  end  of  a  word  or 
before  another  consonant,  is  always  preceded  by  a  long  vowel 
sound  ;  if  the  preceding  vowel  sound  was  originally  short,  it 
has  become  long. 

It  is  altogether  improbable  that  in  the  time  of  the  Ormulum 
r  in  this  position  had  begun  to  assume  its  present  weak  sound  ; 
but  it  had  begun  to  affect  the  quantity  of  a  preceding  vowel. 
We  find  quite  a  number  of  words  in  which  a  short  vowel  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  standing  before  r  in  this  position,  had  be 
come  long  in  the  Ormulum,  as  in  recent  English  : — 

O.  ard  (place,  region,  Sc.  airf),  A.  S.  card. 
ccrn  (earn,  eagle),  A.  S.  earn. 

bcern  (children,  Sc.  bairns],  also  barrncss,  A.  S.  beam, 
bcernenn  (to  burn),  A.  S.  beornan. 

birde  (lineage,  cf.  birth},  A.  S.  gebyrd  (birth,  lineage). 
bord  (board,  table),  A.  S.  bord. 
cherl  (young  man,  cf.  churl),  A.  S.  ceorl. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  2?$ 

O.  corn  (corn},  A.  S.  corn, 
cor  less  (earls),  A.  S.  eorl. 
eortJic,  erf  he  (earth],  A.  S.  cordhe. 
forth  (forth],  also  forrth,  A.  S.fordh. 
kirrkc-gcerd  (church-yard),  A.  S.  geard. 
hird  (company,  family,  cf.  herd),  A.  S.  heard. 
hirdc  (herd,  shepherd),  A.  S.  hirde. 
hord  (hoard],  A.  S.  hord. 

leornenn,  lernenn  (to  learn},  but  lerrnde  (learned),  A.  S.  leornian. 
skarn  (scorn],  O.  Fr.  escorne. 
stirne  (stern,  fierce),  A.  S.  styrne. 
sivcrd  (sword),  A.  S.  sweord. 
word  (word],  A.  S.  word. 

^eornenn,  ^ernenn  (to  yearn],  but  ^errnde  (yearned),  A.  S.  gevrnian, 
iroi\\georn  (desirous,  O.  ^eorne,  ^erne). 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  some  of  these  words,  though  length 
ened  in  the  Ormulum,  may  have  retained  their  primitive  short 
quantity  in  the  prevailing  English,  until  by  the  weakening  of 
the  r  at  a  much  later  time  they  became  long.  It  is  certain 
that  in  most  cases  where  an  original  short  vowel  has  been 
lengthened  before  r,  the  change  is  not  so  old  as  the  Ormulum. 
Thus  in  almost  every  instance  where  we  have  the  sound  of  ah 
or  an  before  a  weak  r,  the  word,  if  found  in  the  Ormulum, 
shows  a  short  vowel.  Here  belong — 

O.  arrt  (art),  arm  (they  are],  A.  S.  eart,  O.  N.  eru  (sunt). 

arrctoss  (north,  cf.  arctic],  Gr.  and  Lat.  arctos  (bear,  north). 

arrke  (ark],  A.  S.  earc,  Lat.  area. 

arrmess  (arms,  brachia),  A.  S.  earm. 

barrli^  (barley),  A.  S.  bcre  (Sc.  bear). 

berrme  (barm,  leaven),  A.  S.  beorma. 

bcrrne  (barn],  A.  S.  bere-arn,  berern,  bern. 
feorr,ferr  (far),  A.  S.feor. 
forr  (for,  prep,  and  conj.),  A.  S.for. 
forrme  (former),  A.  S.  forma. 

harrd  (hard],  A.  S.  heard. 

heorrte,  herrte  (heart},  A.  S.  heorte. 

herrberr^he  (lodging,  cf.  harbor),  A.  S.  hereberga. 

herrcncnn  (to  hearken],  A.  S.  hyrcnian. 

herrfessttid  (harvest-timo),  A.  S.  hilrfest. 

horrs  (horse],  A.  S.  hors. 

karrte  (cart,  chariot),  A.  S.  criit. 

marrch  (month  of  March],  Lat.  and  A.  S.  Martitts. 

marrtirrdom  (martyrdom],  A.  S.  martyrdom,  Lat.  martyr. 

merrke  (mark],  A.  S.  mearc. 


276  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

O.  norrth  (north},  A.  S.  nordh. 

orr  (or),  from  oththr,  otherr,  A.  S.  odhcr. 

patriarrke  (patriarch),  Lat.  patriarcha. 

scorrcncdd  (scorched),  O.  Fr.  escorchcr  (to  excoriate). 

sharrp  (sharp},  A.  S.  scearp. 

shorrt  (shorf),  A.  S.  sccort. 

spcrrd  (closed,  barred,   cf.  j/tor),  unnsperrenn  (to  unclose),   A.  S. 

sparrian. 

starr c  (firm,  cf.  stark},  A.  S.  stearc. 
steorrnc,  sterrne  (star},  A.  S.  stcorra,  O.  N.  stiarna. 
thorrncss  (thorns],  A.  S.  thorn. 

thwcorrt,  thwerrt  (with  ?///  throughout,  cf.  thwart},  A.  S.  thiveorh. 
warrm  (warm),  A.  S.  wear  in. 
werre  (worse,  Sc.  waur),  A.  S.  wear  (evil). 
wcrrpenn  (to  cast,  cf.  to  warp},  A.  S.  wccrpan. 
wJiarrfenn  (to  turn,  cf.  wharf),  A.  S.  Jiwcorfan. 
lerrde  (rod,  rf.  yard),  A.  S.  gcard  (virga). 

Somewhat  less  numerous  are  the  cases  in  which  the  short 
vowel  of  the  Ormulum  corresponds  to  any  other  vowel  sound 
than  those  of  aJi  and  au  (far  '<\\\<\  for)  in  modern  English  : — 

O.   barrncss  (children,  Sc.  bairns},  also  bccrn,  A.  S.  beam. 

to-bresstenn  (to  burst,  Sc.  bntsi),  A.  S.  bcrstan. 

currsoin  (to  curse},  A.  S.  cursian. 

darr  (dare},  durrste  (durst},  A.  S.  dear,  dorste. 
ferrs  (t'crsc},  A.  S.fers,  Lat.  versus. 
firrst  (first),  A.  S.fyrst. 

JirrtJircnn  (to  assist,  cf.  to  further},  A.  S.fyrdhcrian.- 
forrtJterr  (further),  A.  ^.furdJior. 

girrdcll  (girdle),  A.  S.  gyrdcl. 

hirrtcnn  (to  //?/;-/),  Dutch  and  M.  H.  Germ,  hurtcn  (to  dash  against). 

irrc  (ire),  A.  S.  yrre. 

kirrkc  (church),  A.  S.  ryr/V^,  Gr.  KVPKIKTJ. 

kirrtell  (kirtle),  A.  S.  ^/r//?/. 

mirrtJircnn  (to  murder),  A.  S.  myrdhrian. 

myrrha,  myrra,  myrrc  (myrrh),  Lat.  myrrha. 

serrfenji  (to  serve),  O.  Fr.  scrvir,  Lat.  servirc. 

skerrenn  (to  jfrt;r),  O.  N.  j^v'rrrt  (to  drive  away). 

thirrst  (thirst},  A.  S.  t hurst. 

thriddc  (third),  thritti^  (thirty),  A.  S.  thridda,  thrittig  or  ///r?/;^. 

turrncnn  (to  turn},  A.  S.  tyrnan. 

turrtle  (turtle-dove),  A.  S.  /«r//<-,  Lat.  turtur. 

ivarr  (aware),  A.  S.  7wr. 

weorrc,  wcrrc  (work},  wirrkcnn  (ttfwork},  A.  S.  -rcvwr,  ivy r can. 

wcrrse  (worse),  werrst  (worst),  wirrsenn  (worsening),  A.  S.  w 
wyrst,  wyrsian. 

ivurrm  (worm},  A.  S.  wyrm,  wcorm.. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 


277 


O.  wurrth    (worth,   adj.),    wurrthshipe,    wurrshipe  (worship},  A.  S. 

wcordh,  weordhscipe. 
wurrthcnn  (to  become,  be,  cf.  woe  worth  the  day),  A.  S.  wcordhan. 

But  r  is  not  the  only  consonant  which  has  had  this  effect  of 
lengthening  the  vowel  before  it.  We  find  it  produced  also  by 
/,  a  liquid  and  a  lingual  like  the  r.  Before  /  at  the  end  of  a 
word  or  followed  by  another  conspnant,  a  vowel  originally 
short  has  often  become  long.  Cases  of  this  kind,  in  which 
theOrmulum  still  retains  the  short  vowel,  are  the  following: — 

.O.  all  (all],  allswa,  allse  (also],   allmasst  (almost},  A.  S.  cal,  ealswa, 

ealmcest. 

allderrmann  (chief,  ruler,  cf.  alderman),  A.  S.  ealdorman. 
alltcrr  (altar],  Lat.  alt  are. 
built cdd  (breed,  bread  from  bolted  flour),  O.  Fr.  bulter,  bluter,  M.  H. 

Germ,  biuteln. 

fallenn  (\.o  fall,  fallen),  A.  ^.  fcallan,feallen. 
f allse  (false],  A.  S.fa/s,  Lzt./atszts. 
galle  (gall),  A.  S.  gea II a. 
Jiallp    (holp),  hollpcnn    (holpcn),  from  Jiellpenn,  A.  S.  Jtealp,  holpen, 

from  hclpati. 

halite  (halt,  lame),  A.  S.  healt. 
pall  (cloth,  ci.pall),  A.  S.pCdl,pell,  \j&.  pallium. 
sallt  (salt],  A.  S.  sea  It. 

shulldre  (shoulders],  A.  S.  sculdre,  pi.  of  sculdor. 
stall  (stall),  A.  S.  steal. 
wallcss  (iualls),  grunndwall  (ground-wall,  foundation),  A.  S.  weal. 

This  lengthening  of  a  vowel  before  /  had  already  com 
menced  in  the  time  of  the  Ormulum  ;  and  indeed,  in  most  of 
the  instances  found  in  the  Ormulum,  where  a  vowel  origin 
ally  short  is  followed  by  the  combination  Id,  the  vowel  ap 
pears  as  long  in  the  Ormulum  itself.  Thus  in — 

O.  aid  (old),  but  elldre  (elder,  older)  and  allderrmann,  A.  S.  cald,  yldre. 
bald  (bold),   beoldenn,   beldenn   (to  embolden),  A.    S.    beald,  bealdian, 

by  Id  an. 

child  (child],  but  chittdre  (children),  A.  S.  did,  cildru. 
f  aides  s  (sheep  -folds),  A.  S.  gcfcald. 
f  eld  (field),  A.  S.fcld. 

gold  (gold),  gildene  (golden),  A.  S.  gold,  gylden. 
haldenn  (to  hold,  /widen),  A.  S.  healdan,  healden. 
kald  (cold),  A.  S.  ceald. 

milde  (mild),  but  millce  (mildness,   mercy),   A.    S.    milde,   milds  or 
milts. 


278  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

O.  saldenn  (they  sold),  from  sellenn  (to  sell),  A.  S.  sealdon,  from  sellan. 
shildenn  (to  shield},  A.  S.  scildan. 

talde  (he  /0/dQ,  from  /^/<?«w  (to  /*//),  A.  S.  /ra/de,  from  A?//0#. 
weldenn  (to  govern,  cf.  to  wield},  A.  S.  wealdan. 
wilde  (wild),  A.  S.  w//</. 
leldenn  (to  yield],  A.  S.  gieldan,  gyldan. 

Indeed,  the  Ormulum  sometimes  lengthens  a  short  vowel 
before  /,  where  the  modern  English  has  it  short.  Thus  in 
wel,  also  welle  (well,  A.  S.  well  and  wclla,  fons)  ;  and  in  welt 
also  well  (well,  A.  S.  wel,  bene).  The  variation  of  quantity, 
which  the  Ormulum  shows  in  the  last  of  these  words,  is  seen,, 
continued  to  the  present  day,  in  Scottish  weelj  compared 
with  English  well.  Further,  before  Id  a  short  vowel  is 
lengthened  in  the  following  :— 

O.  cwaldenn  (they  quelled,  killed),  from  cwellenn,  A.  S.  cwcaldon,  from 

cwellan. 
dwalde  (he  dwelt},   from  dwcllenn,  A.  S.  dwcaldc,  from  dwcllan  (to 

hinder,  delay). 

elde  (old  age,  cf.  eld},  A.  $.  yldoald,  eld. 
oferrgildedd  ( gilded  ove r) ,  A.  S.  ofcrgyldcd. 
seldcnn  (seldom],  A.  S.  scldan. 

In  scaldess  (minstrels,  scalds,  from  O.  N.  skald-r,  poet), 
and  hcold,  held  (he  held,  A.  S.  Jicold],  the  Ormulum  pre 
serves  an  original  long  sound,  which  has  become  short  in 
English.  But  the  first  of  these  is  variously  pronounced,  as 
scalds  and  as  scaulds. 

Before  the  liquid  m  followed  by  the  mute  b,  as  before  the 
similar  combination  ldy  a  short  vowel  is  sometimes  length 
ened  in  the  Ormulum.  Thus  in  five  words,  three  of  which 
have  a  long  vowel  in  English,  while  two  preserve  the  earlier 
short  : — 

O.  camb  (comb},  A.  S.  camb. 

climbcnn  (to  climb},  A.  S.  climban. 

wambe  (womb,  belly),  A.  S.  wamb,  womb. 

dumb  (dumb},  A.  S.  dumb. 

lamb  (lamb},  but  pi.  lammbre,  A.  S.  lamb,  pi.  lambru. 

In  like  manner,  before  the  liquid  n  followed  by  the  mute  d, 
a  short  vowel  has  become  long  in  very  many  words.  In  bi- 
hinndenn  (behind,  A.  S.  beliindaii],  and  hinndsrrling  (de 
generate,  retrograde  in  character,  A.  S.  '  hinder  ling],  con 
nected  with  E.  hinder,  the  Ormulum  still  retains  the  short 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  279 

sound ;  as  it  does  before  nt  mfunnt  (font,  A.  S.  font,  cf.  E. 
fount),  munnt  (mount,  A.  S.  mnnf],  sannt  (saint,  A.  S. 
sanct],  where  the  vowel  has  become  long  in  English.  But 
the  instances  are  far  more  numerous  in  which  a  vowel  before 
nd  is  already  lengthened  in  the  Ormulum.  Thus  in  — 

O.  bindenn  (to  bind),  bundenn  (bound],  A.  S.  bindan,  bunden. 
blind  (blind),  blendenn  (to  blind],  A.  S.  blind,  blendan. 
findcnn  (\.Q  find) ,  fundenn  (found],  A.  ^>.findan,funden. 
grindenn  (\.Q  grind},  A.  S.  grindan. 
grund  (ground},  but  grunndwall  (foundation),  A.  S.  grund,  grund- 

weal. 

hund  (hound],  A.  S.  hund. 
kindc  (nature,  kind,  kindred],  A.  S.  gccynd. 

minde  (mind,  memory),  but  minndi^nesse  (memory],  A.  S.gemynd. 
simd  (sound,  integer),  A.  S.  sund. 
-ivindenn  (to  wind],'m  attwindenn  (to   escape),  wundenn   (wound}, 

but  winndeclut  and  windeclut  (winding -clout,  swaddling-cloth)  ; 

A.  S.  windan,  wunden. 
wunde  (wound,  vulnus),  A.  S.  wund. 

In  the  preterit  singular,  the  Ormulum  has  band,  fand, 
wand,  like  the  Anglo-Saxon,  but  with  short  a  lengthened  ; 
these  forms,  however,  are  not  represented  in  English,  where 
the  vowel  of  bound,  fonnd,  ivoitnd,  comes  from  the  plural 
forms,  bundenn t  fnndenn,  etc.,  A.  S.  bundon,  fnndon,  etc. 
The  change  of  vowel  quantity  before  nd  (as  before  Id  and  nib] 
is  carried  further  in  tlje  Ormulum  than  in  the  modern  Eng 
lish,  being  extended  to  a  number  of  words  in  which  it  failed 
to  establish  itself,  so  that  the  original  short  vowel  is  heard  in 
their  present  pronunciation.  Thus  in — 

O.  band  (band),  A.  S.*bend. 

ende  (end,  vulgar  eend],  A.  S.  ende. 

hand  (hand],  oftener  hannd,  but  with  added  -e  always  hande,  A.  S. 
hand. 

land  (land},  A.  S.  land. 

sand  (sand],  A.  S.  sand. 

scndenn  (to  send},  but  sennde  (he  sent},  A.  S.  sendan,  sende. 

shcndenn  (to  shend,  disgrace),  A.  S.  sccndan. 

strande  (strand,  bank),  A.  S.  strand. 

snnderr-run  (private  communing,  cf.  sunder,  asunder},  A.  S.  sundor. 

ivand  (rod,  wand},  O.  N.  vand-r,  vond-r,  Goth,  vandus. 

•wendenn  (to  wend,  turn,  go),  but  wennde  (he  turned,  went],  A.  S.  wen- 
dan,  wende. 


2 80  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

The  vtmdfreondyf rend  (friend,  A.  S.  f refold)  does  not  be 
long  to  this  series  ;  it  came  with  long  vowel  quantity  from  the 
Anglo-Saxon  into  the  Ormulum,  and  passed  thus  into  the 
older  English,  as  we  see  from  the  spelling  with  ic,  which  it  has 
in  common  with  the  opposite,  but  strictly  analogous,  fiend 
(O.  fend,  A.  S.feond). 

It  is  a  very  curious  fact  that  a  lengthening  of  the  vowel  be 
fore  ng,  similar  to  that  before  nd,  is  frequent  in  the  Ormulum, 
although  unknown  to  modern  English,  in  which  the  vowel  be 
fore  ng  is  always  short.*  Examples  are- 

O.  gang  (journey,  ct.  gangway),  but  ganngcnn  (to  go),  A.  S.gang,gan- 

gan. 
gengc  (company,  cLgang),  A.  $.  gsnge. 

king  (king),  A.  S.  cyning,  cyng. 

lang  (long),  bilcngc  (belonging  to),  A.  S.  lang,  gclenge  :  but  lanngc 
(long,  din),  Jcnngre  (longer},  A.  S.  hinge,  Icngra,  Icng. 

langcnn  (\JQ  long  after),  forrlangedd  (desirous),  A.  S.  langian. 
man*,  amang  and  amanng  (among],  A.  S.  amang,  gemang.   ,. 

ringenn  (to  ring),  A.  S.  hringan. 

singcnn  (to  sing),  sungcnn  (they  sung),  sang  (song),  A.  S.  singan, 
sungon,  sang. 

springcnn  (to  spring),  sprang  (sprang),  sprit ngenn  (sprung),  off 
spring  (offspring],  A.  S.  springan,  sprang,  spntngen,  of  spring. 

stingcnn  (to  sling),  stnngenn  (stung),  A.  S.  stingah,  stungcn. 

strang  (strong),  strengenn  (to strengthen),  but  strcnncthe  (strength), 
A.  S.  strang,  gestranglan,  strcngdJnt. 

swingcnn  (to  scourge,  cf.  to  suing,  swinge},  A.  S.  sivlngan. 

thing  (thing),  A.  S.  tiling. 

bithrungcnn  (oppressed,  cf.  throng,  i.  e.  press  of  people),  A.  S. 
bithrungen,  from  t hringan,  gethrang ;  but  O.  threnngdenn 
(they  thronged),  A.  S.  throigdon,  from  t/irengan. 

thwang  (thong),  A.  S.  tJiwang. 

tunge  (tongue),  A.  S.  tunge. 

wengess  (wings],  O.  N.  'vcng-r. 

wrang  (wrong),  A.  S.  wrang. 

^ung  (young),  rarely  ^unng,  comp.  yinngre  (younger),  A.  S.  geong, 
gyngra. 


*  The  Norse  grammarians  recognize  in  that  language  a  similar  lengthening  of 
primitive  short  vowels  (a,  o,  ?/,  z'),  when  followed  by  ng  (or  uk ;  also  of  a,  o,  u, 
when  followed  by  //",  tg,  Ik,  Im,  Ip,  Is)  :  thus  Idng-r  (long],  springa  (to  spring], 
tunga  (tongue],  vccng-r  or  veng-r  (wing].  It  seems,  however,  to  be  question 
able,  whether,  or  how  far,  this  change  belonged  to  the  old  language.  See  Heyne, 
Kurze  Gramui.  dcr  altgerm.  Diah'ctc,  2cl  ed.,  p.  82. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  281 

In  Jicng  (hung,  A.  S.  heng  ;  but  henngde  \Jiangcd],  A.  S. 
hangode],  tile  vowel  was  already  long  in  Anglo-Saxon. 
Whether  this  extension  to  ng  of  the  euphonic  analogy  which 
obtains  for  nd  ever  gained  much  currency  in  the  language, 
may  well  be  doubted.  It  seems  certain  that  it  cannot  have 
prevailed  at  the  time  (probably  in  the  fifteenth  century)  when 
the  old  long  sounds  of  i  and  //  (as  \\\ pique,  prude]  began  to 
pass  into  the  diphthongal  sounds  heard  in  pike  and  proud  • 
for  in  that  case,  instead  of  saying  king,  tiling,  tongue,  sung, 
as  we  now  do,  we  should  probably  be  saying  k'uig,  tJnng, 
toung,  soung,  with  the  same  vowel  utterance  as  in  k'ind,  sound. 
It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  in  the  most  recent  English 
there  is  a  noticeable  tendency  to  lengthen  somewhat  the  short 
sound  of  o  before  ng,  so  that  long,  song  are  apt  to  be  pro 
nounced  with  much  the  same  vowel  sound  as  or,  nor,  for. 

If  now  we  have  found  in  combinations  such  as  Id,  nib,  nd, 
ng,  where  the  first  letter  is  a  liquid  and  the  second  its  cognate 
sonant  mute,  a  certain  tendency  to  protract  the  quantity  of  a 
preceding  short  vowel,  it  must  be  remarked  that  the  ordinary 
tendency  of  a  combination  of  consonants  is  in  the  opposite 
direction — not  to  the  lengthening  of  a  preceding  short,  but 
to  the  shortening  of  a  preceding  long.  The  speaker  slights 
the  vowel  in  order  to  concentrate  his  energy  of  utterance  on 
the  following  consonants,  which  thus  massed  together  pre 
sent  some  difficulty  of  enunciation.  It  is  as  in  the  Greek 
pos  (poorer),  for  Tre^crrepo?,  i.e.  Trevrjr-Tepos.,  from  Trez^?, 
s.  Of  this  change — a  long  vowel  shortened  on  account 
of  two  or  more  consonants  following  it — numerous  examples 
are  found  in  the  language  of  the  Ormulum,  when  compared 
with  the  Anglo-Saxon.  Thus— 

O.  asskcnn  (to  ask],  A.  S.  ascian. 
blosstme  (blossoni),  A.  S.  b  lost  ma. 
chappmcnn  (chapmen,  merchants),  A.  S.  ccupmcn  ;  cf.  O.  chcpinng- 

bothc  (market-booth). 
dcnnlike   (cleanly],   dennscnn  (to   cleanse),  from   dene   (clean],  A.  S. 

dcenl'ice,  dcensian,  from  clccne. 
dredde  (he  dreaded],  forrdrcdd  (alarmed),  from  drccdenn,   dredenn 

(to  dread],  A.  S.  dred,  drcedcn,  from  dree  dan  ;  in  O.,  as  in  E., 

the  verb  has  passed  into  the  weak  conj. 
errnde  (errand],  A.  S.  cerende* 


282  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

O.fedde  (he/™7),  homfcdenn  (to  feed),  A.  S.feddc,  iromfedan. 
fifti*  (fifty}'  from^  (five),  A.  S.fiftig,  from f  if. 
fosstrenn  (to  foster],  fossterrfaderr  (foster-father},  A.   S.  fostcrian, 

fosterfader. 
godd spell  (gospel)  belongs  here,   if  the  A.  S.  word  is  godspel  (good 

tidings, =f vayyeXiov)  ;  but  this   is   now  generally  believed  to  be 

godspcl  (God's  word). 
hall\Jicnn  (saints,  cf.  Hallow-ceii),  hall^hcnn  (Shallow),  A.  S.h&lige 

orhiilge,  halgian. 
hiddcnn  (they  ///>/),  ///dtf  (hid),  homhidenn  (to  7//V&)>  A.  S.  hyddon, 

hyded,  from  hydan. 

kepptc  (he  XY//),  from  kepenn  (to  /vr^),  A.  S.  <:<>//*',  from  ccpan. 
lasstenn  (to  /«j/),  also  lastenn,  A.  S.  hestan. 
leddc  (he  &Y/),  /tY/^  (Av/),  from  Icdcnn  (to  lead),  A.  S.  laddc,  faded, 

from  Ice  dan. 

mosste  (might,  cf.  jurist),  A.  S.  moste. 
ncsst  (nearest,  next),  also  nest  (Sc.  niest),  A.  S.  nehst. 
redd  (read,  part.),  A.  S.  m/^,  from  m/^«. 
shaddc  (he  parted),   shadd  (parted),  from  shcedenn  (to  part,    cf.  to 

shed),  A.  S.  javW,  sccadcn,  from  sceadan  :   of  weak  conj.  in  O. 

and  E. 
siththcnn    (sithcnce,    since),  A.    S.    j^///  tham,    s'uihdhan,  perhaps 

sidhdhan. 
slepptc  (he  slept),  from  shepenn  (to  j/i-^),  A.  S.  j/<^,  from  slcepan  : 

of  weak  conj.  in  O.  and  E. 
sofftc  (soft),  A.  S.  stftc. 

spredd  (spread,  part.),  A.  S.  sprccded,  from  sprccdan. 
thratte  (he  rebuked,  cf.  threatened),  A.  S.  tfireatede,  from  threatian. 
wcpptenn  (they   wept),   from  wcpctin  (to  weep),  A.   S.  weapon,  from 

wcpan  :   of  weak  conj.  in  O.  and  E. 

wimmann  (woman),  also  wifmann,  A.   S.  wifman,  wimman,  per 
haps  wimman. 
wissdotn  (wisdom),  also  wisdom,  A.  S.  wisdom.- 

Probably  the  short  vowel  in  tvratht/ic  (wrat/i),  as  well  as  in 
laththe  (loathing,  enmity),  and  kit /it  he  seen  in  kiththeli$  (fa 
miliarly,  cf.  /£////),  may  be  accounted  for  in  this  way,  from  the 
addition  of  a  suffix  //^  (A.  S.  dh,  dJni) — the  same  as  in 
strenncthe  (strength),  trowwthe  (trutJi),  from  strang  (strong), 
trowwe  (true) — to  the  adjectives  wrath  (wroth,  A.  S.  wrddti), 
lath  (loathsome,  hateful,  A.  S.  ladli),  and  cutJi  (known,  contli, 
A.  S.  cudJi)  :  compare  A.  S.  Icedhdhu  (offence),  cydhdhu 
(home,  household).  It  is  possible  that  in  these  words,  as  well 
as  in  dredde,fedde,  hiddcnn,  leddc,  shaddc,  siththcnn,  wimniann, 
the  first  vowel  may  have  been  pronounced  long,  the  follow- 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  283 

ing  consonant  being  written  double  only  because  it  was  sound 
ed  twice,  first  in  the  stem,  and  again  in  the  suffix.*  It  is  also 
possible,  or  even  probable,  that  in  some^ases  the  change  from 
long  to  short,  now  under  consideration,  may  have  taken  place 
already  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  ;t  but  this  makes  no  difference, 
either  in  the  reality  of  the  change  or  in  the  cause  from  which 
it  arose. 

In  the  list  of  words  just  given,  the  short  sound  which  ap 
pears  in  the  Ormulum  is  maintained  in  modern  English.  The 
case  is  otherwise  with  those  which  follow  : — 

O.  allmasst  (almost],  though  the  simple  word  is  nearly    always   mast 

(most],  A.  S.  mcEst. 
demmd  (judged),   from  demenn   (to  judge,   cf.   doom,  deem),  A.   S. 

denied,  from  deman. 

dcrre  (dearer),  from  deore,  dere  (dear),  A.  S.  deorra,  from  deore. 
derrlinng  (darling),  A.  S.  dear  ling, 
dunnwarrd  (downward},  from  dun  (dowti),  A.  S.  ddunwcard,  from 

dun. 
hehhre  (higher},  also  hehre,iwya\  heh  (IiigJi),  A.  S.  hcaJira,  from 

hedh. 

*  Such  a  supposition  must,  however,  be  regarded  as  improbable  for  these  words, 
on  aceourit  of  the  short  quantity  which  they  have  in  English  ;  and  especially  im 
probable  for  the  preterits  in  -dde,  on  account  of  the  corresponding  participles 
dredd,  hidd,  ledd,  etc. ,  in  which  a  really  double  pronunciation  of  the  d  is  hardly 
to  be  thought  of. 

What  is  here  recognized  as  possible — that  a  vowel  before  a  double  consonant 
may  have  been  long,  the  consonant  being  written  twice  because  actually  twice 
sounded — must  be  admitted  also  for  httte  (he  touted),  as  well  as  the  comparatives 
derre  (dearer}  and  nerre  (nearer],  mentioned  in  the  next  paragraph  ;  and,  perhaps 
with  still  stronger  reason,  for  the  words  clcennesse  (clean-ness),  Jiff  aid  (fivefold}, 
l&ffull  (belief -full,  believing).  As  we  have  skilllces  (skill-less,  ignorant),  sefenn- 
nahht  (seven-night,  week),  unnned  (iin-need,  without  constraint),  sunderrrun 
(sunder-roun,  private  communing),  forrraht  (perverted,  Germ,  ver-ruckt),  it  seems 
not  unlikely  that  the  r,  n,  and  f  would  have  been  written  thrice  in  derre,  nerre, 
clcennesse,  fiffald,  laffull,  if  their  first  vowel  had  been  short  in  sound;  but  the 
spelling  of  fullike  (f till-like,  fully),  stilli\  (stilly},  idelle^c=idellnesse  (idleness), 
drunnkennesse  (drunken-ness],  unnitt  (useless,  Germ,  un-nutz),  forrsivunden- 
nesse  (remissness),  orrath  as  well  as  orrrath  (inops  consilii,  O.  N.  or-radJi),  warns 
us  not  to  lay  too  much  stress  on  this  consideration. 

\  The  same  possibility  is  not  to  be  overlooked  in  other  cases  where  the  vowel 
quantity  of  the  Ormulum  differs  from  what  must  have  been  the  primitive  quantity 
in  Anglo-Saxon.  This  is  particularly  true  as  to  that  lengthening  of  vowels  in 
open  syllables  which  is  soon  to  be  considered  :  the  change  could  hardly  have  gone 
so  far  in  the  language  of  the  Ormulum,  if  it  had  not  made  a  beginning  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  times. 


284  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

O.  hcrrde  (he  heard} ,  herrd  (heard] ,  from  hcrcnn  (to  hear],  A.  S.  hyrde, 

hyrcd,  from  Jiyran. 

laffdi^  (lady},  A.  S.  hlcefdige  ;   cf.  O.  /^/77V/  (/^r,/),  A.  S.  7^?/W. 
licence's   (likeness),   from   //V  (///r),  A.  S.  gd'icncs,  from  ^r/fc,  but   O. 

onnlicnesse  (likeness,  image). 
luttc  (he  bowed,  lout  at),  from  littcnn  (to  /<?///),  A.  S.  /<r«/,  from  /w/Vz«  / 

of  weak  conj.  in  O.  and  E. 
nerre  (nearer),  from  ncr  (nearly),  O.  N.  n<zrri,from  nar ;  cf.  O.  ncr 

(nearer'],  from  wr//  (nig/i),  A.  S.  ;/r^>,  from  «r<?//. 
oththr,  orr,   from   othcrr   (all    meaning   0r),   A.    S.   ddher  —  dwdher 

(either)  :  otJitiir,   perhaps,  by  a   confusion   of  A.  S.  odhdhe  (or) 

with  ad  her. 

TJntrrsda"\i  (Thursday],  O.  N.  Thors-dag-r,  A.  S.  Thunres-dag. 
lucnnde  (lie  lueetied},  from  wcncun  (to  7tvr;/,  _  think),  A.  S.  we  tide,  from 

we  nan. 
ivcsstc  (waste,  desert,  adj.  and  subst.),  A.  S.  ivtste. 

From  a  continued  working  out  of  the  same  tendency,  the 
English  has  a  short  vowel  before  two  or  more  consonants  in 
some  words  where  the  Ormulum  shows  the  original  long 
vowel  quantity  :— 

O.  adk  (disease,  cf.  addle],  A.  S.  Adi. 
breost,  brest  (breast],  A.  S.  bre<>st. 
bretJire  (brcthrcti),  A.  S.  br<>dhru. 
buhsumm  (pliant,  compliant,  cf.  biixoui),  from  A.  S.  bu.gan  (to  bend, 

bow] . 

to- chef  (he  cleft,  also  clave,  cloi'e],  A.  S.  clet'if,  from  eld-fan  (to  cleave), 
dost  (dost,  usual  pron.  dast),  also  dosst,  from  don  (to  ^),  A.  S.  dest, 

from  eli'ni. 

fifle  (JiftJi),jiftendc  (fifteenth],  A.  S.flfta,  f if t cod  ha,  O.  N.fimtdndi. 
freond,frend  (friend],  A.  S.frei'md. 
gom  (care,  heed,  cf.  gumption),  A.  S.  geam. 
Jicesc  (command,  /test],  A.  S.  //<2\y. 
//^/^,  //^/  (he  held),  from  haldenn  (to  //^/),  A.  S.  //r<;/^,  from  /^m/- 

dan. 

monethth  (month),  A.  S.  monad Ji. 
naness,   in  /<?rr   ///^    naness  (for   the   nonce],  from  ccness    (once,  Sc. 

aines),  A.  S.  #w. 

In    the  following  words   also   the   shortening  may  be   ex 
plained    on    the    same    principle,  since   the    vowel    which    is 
written  before  their  final  liquid  is  little,  if  at   all,  represented 
in  their  actual  pronunciation  : — 
O.  of  re  (ever),  ncefre  (never),  A.  S.  erf  re,  ncefrc. 
becnenn  (to  beckon),  A.  S.  becnan,  beacnian. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  285 

O.  bosemm  (bosom,  often  pron.  with  long  oo  sound),  A.  S.  bosni. 

brotherr  (brother],  pi.  brcthre  (brethren],  A.  S.  brodhor,  brodhru. 
modcrr  (mother],  A.  S.  nwdor. 
otherr  (other),  A.  S.  vdJier. 
wcspenn  (weapon),  A.  S.  ivcepcn. 

The  cases  which  we  have  been  considering  show  an  ac 
cented  long  vowel  shortened  in  a  close  syllable,  where  it  is 
separated  by  more  than  one  audible  consonant  sound  from 
the  vowel  of  the  following  syllable.  We  have  next  to  notice 
a  change  which  is  the  converse  of  this,  a  change  which  has 
cut  much  deeper  into  the  integrity  of  the  old  system  of  quan 
tities  :  the  lengthening  of  an  accented  short  vowel  in  an  open 
syllable  (generally  a  penult) — that  is,  when  separated  by  only 
one  consonant  sound  from  the  vowel  of  the  syllable  which 
follows.  This  change  has  been  carried  to  a  very  great  extent 
in  the  modern  German  :  gcbcn  (to give),  nicder  (down,  cf.  E. 
nether),  trageii  (to  draiv),  ncluncn  (to  take),  are  examples 
taken  up  at  random  out  of  an  immense  multitude.  Accord 
ing  to  Schleicher,  this  change  of  quantity  belongs  to,  and  is  a 
prominent  feature  in,  the  transition  from  Middle  to  Modern 
High  German,  which  was  made  in  the  fifteenth  century.  In 
England  the  change  must  have  commenced  its  progress 
earlier,  as  we  find  it  carried  very  far  in  the  language  of  the 
Ormulum,  which  belongs  to  the  thirteenth  century.  We  give 
first  the  instances  in  which  the  lengthened  vowel  seen  in  the 
Ormulum  became  so  established  in  English  usage  as  to  re 
main  long  in  the  pronunciation  of  to-day.  Thus— 

O.   -ah  (ale),  in  bridale  (£r/</£'- feast),  A.  S.  calu,brydealu.     In  E.  bridal 

it  has  become  short  again. 
a\he   (awe),  but  also  cy^c  (fear),  A.  S.  ege ;   cf.  O.  N.  t'cgja  (to  strike 

with  fear  or  awe], 
bakcnn  (to  bake),  A.  S.  bacan. 

bede  (prayer,  cf.  bead,  bead-roll,  foads-ma.n),  A.  S.  gebed. 
bcrenn  (to  bear],  borenu  (born),  A.  S.  bcran,  boren. 
bidell  (crier,  messenger,  cf.  beadle),  A.  S.  by  del. 
brascne  (brazen),  from  brass  (brass),  A.  S.  bra  sen,  from  briis. 
brckcmi  (to  break},  A.  S.  brccan. 

bridledd  (bridled),  with  7  from  bride/I  (?  not  found  in  O.),  A.  S.  bridel. 
bule   (bole,  tree-stem),  in  bulaxc  (axe,   hatchet,   cf.  pole-axe],  O.  N. 

boloxi,  from  bol-r. 
care  (care],  A.  S.  ccaru,  earn. 


286  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

O.  charii  (mournful,  anxious,  cf.  chary),  A.  S.  ccarig,  from  ccaru. 

choscnn  (chosen),  from  chescnn  (to  choose),  A.  S.  cor  en,  from  ceosan. 
clofenn  (cloven),  A.  S.  clofen,  from  clei'fan  (to  cleave), 
cnapess  (boy's,  cf.  knave),  A.  S.  cnape,  cnafa  (boy). 
cnedenn  (to  knead},  A.  S.  cncdan. 
dcekenn  (Levite,  deacon],  A.  S.  diacon,  Lat.  diaconus. 
dale  (dale),  A.  S.  rt^//  original  quantity  preserved  in  E.  dell. 
dra^Jienn  (to  draw,  drawn},  A.  S.  dragan,  dragen. 
kirrkedure  (church-rt^fr),  A.  S.  duru  (door). 

cfenn  (equal,  even},  but  pi.  effnc,  vb.  cjfnenn,  A.  S.  £/?;;,  efenian. 
ele  (oil},  A.  S.  ^/<?,  O.  Fr.  <?//6',  0///V,  Lat.  oleum, 
etenn  (to  ^tf/1),  but  impv.  ett  (eat),  A.  S.  ctan,  ct. 
fader r  (father),  A.  ^.  fader. 

farenn  (to  %p,fare},  but  impv./^rr,  A.  S.faran,  far. 
biforcnn  (before},  also  biforr,  A.  S.  bcforan. 
bifrorcnn  (frozen},  A.  S.froren,  fromfreosan  (to freeze), 
gate  (way,  ci.  gait},  O.  N.gata  (way),  A.  $>.  gcat  (gate}, 
grccfess  (ditches,  cf.  grave),  A.  S.  grfif. 

-gume  (man),  in  bridgume  (bridegroom},  A.  S.  guma,  brydgnma. 
hatcnn  (to  //«/t'),  /^'/f  (hate},  A.  S.  hatian,  Jiete. 
hefenn  (to  raise,  heave},  hofenn  (hove,  hoven},  A.  S.  hebban,  hofcn. 
hire  (Jier},  A.  S.  ////r. 
hiihcnn  (to  hasten,  cf.  to  ///>),  higian. 
hope  (hope},  A.  S.  //<?/«. 
if  ell  (evil),  A.  S.j^-/. 
/Cw//.'//  (f«>Cv),  O.  N.  yfo&z. 

ladcnn  (to  draw  out,  cf.  to  /^^-  water,  also  ladle),  A.  S.  hladan. 
late  (late),  but  /«//n-  (latter},  lattst  (last),  A.  S.  /<?/,  /^/;7?,  latest. 
la^he  (law),  A.  S.  lagu. 
forrlorenn  (lost,  cf.  forlorn),  iromforrlesenn  (to  lose},  A.  $> .  forloren , 

from  f or  led  s  an . 

makcnn  (to  make,  Sc.  ;;/<?£),  but  impv.  w«f<r,  A.  S.  macian,  maca. 
mele  (meal,  flour),  A.  S.  melu. 
mete  (meat,  food),  A.  S.  mete. 
efennmete  (commensurate),   from   mctt  (measure,    cf.    mete},    A.  S. 

gcmct  :   O.  met  dike  (meetly},  A.  S.  gcmctlice. 
naked d  (naked},  A.  S.  nacod. 

name  (name),  but  ncmmnenn  (to  name},  A.  S.  name,  ncmnan. 
bincthenn  (beneath},  but  niththrenn   (to   lower,  cf.  nether),  A.  S.  &•- 

ncodhan,  nidherian. 
ni^hcnn    (nine},  nitficnntte  (ninth},    A.  S.  «?^«,    nigodha,  O.    N. 

niundi  (ninth}. 

of  err  (over),  but  also  ^r,  A.  S.  ofer. 

openn  (open},  but  oppnemi  (to  ^-«),  A.  S.  open,  openian. 
retftellboc  (rule-book},  A.  S.  regol,  Lat. 
sake  (quarrel,  cf.  sake},  A.  S.  sacu. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  287 

O.  forrsakenn  (\.Q  forsake,  forsaken),  A.  S.forsacan,forsacen. 
same  (same),  A.  S.  same  (pariter),  O.  N.  sam-r  (idem). 
se^henn,  scne  (seen},  A.  S.  sew  en,  scgen,  sen,  from  seon  (to  see), 
shame  (shame],  but  shammfasst  (shamefaced],  A.  S.  sceamu,  sceam- 

fast. 

shapenn  (to  form,  create,  cf.  to  shape],  A.  S.  sceppan. 
skathenn  (to  harm,  to  scathe),  A.  S.  sceadhan. 
sla^cnn  (slain),  from  slan  (to  slay],  A.  S.  slagen,  from  slcdn. 
smeredd  (anointed,   cf.   smeared},  A.  S.   smyrcd,  from  smyrian,  cf. 

smeoru  (ointment). 

spekenn  (to  speak},  A.  S.  spree  an  and  specan. 
stelenn  (to  steal},  A.  S.  stclan. 
stircnn  (to  j/Vr,  move,  Sc.  steer},  A.  S.  styrian. 
swercnn  (to  swear],  A.  S.  swerian. 
anndsivere  (answer},  A.  S.  andswaru. 
takenn  (to  take,  taken,  Sc.  fa£),  but  impv.  torr,  A.  S.  tacan,  tacen, 

tac. 

tale  (reckoning,  number,  cf.  tale},  A.  S.  talu. 
tholenn  (to  suffer,  Sc.  thole],  A.  S.  tholian. 
wakenn  (to  wake,  watch),  A.  S.  wacan. 

watcrr  (water},  but  wattrenn  (to  water},  A.  S.  water,  wa.terian. 
weorclld,   werelld  (world],   but    gen.   wcorrldcss,   wcrrldess,   A.    S. 

weoruld,  woruld,  world. 

wrekenn  (to  wreak),  wrceche  (wreak,  revenge),  A.  S.  wrecan,  wracu* 
wuke  (week),  A.  S.  wttcu. 
late  (gate],  zlsogate,  A.  S.  gcat. 

It  is  remarkable  that  this  change  is  carried  to  a  much  great 
er  extent  in  the  Semi-Saxon  of  the  Ormulum  than  it  is  in 
modern  English.  It  should  seem  that  there  must  have  been 
a  reaction  early  established,  which  set  limits  to  the  tendency, 
and  maintained  the  short  vowel  in  many  words  where  it  had 
begun  to  be  lengthened.  Instances  of  this  kind — where  an 
accented  short  vowel  in  an  open  syllable  is  lengthened  in  the 
Ormulum,  but  the  same  vowrel  is  found  short  in  English 
(mostly,  indeed,  in  monosyllables  with  final  consonant  sound) 
— are  the  following  :— 

.O.  abitfenn  (above) ,=bufenn,  from  A.  S.  d,  be,  and  ufan. 

beodenn,  bedenn  (bidden),  A.  S.  bodcn  (commanded),  bedcn  (entreat 
ed.  [The  A.  S.  verbs  biddan  (to  entreat)  and  beodan  (to  com 
mand)  are  pretty  much  confounded  in  O.] 

bis  scope  ss,  pi.  of  bisscopp  (bishop),  A.  S.  bisccop  ;  bisscopcss  had  a 
secondary  accent  on  the  o. 

bite  (bit,  morsel),  A.  S.  bite. 


288  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

O.  bodii  (body],  A.  S.  bo  dig. 

bide  (bull],  Dutch  bid,  O.  N.  boll. 

clcpcdd  (called,  cf.   dept,  yclept},  from  ckpcnn,  K.   S.   cleopod,irom 

cleopian. 

cudc  (cud] ,  A.  S.  rwrtT. 
<:«;;z<v/«  (to   <w/^,  also  as   part.),  but   impv.  r^ww,  cnmm,  A.   S    «/- 

;;/«;/,  cumen,  cum. 

cwike,  pi.  of  rw/Yr  (living,  quick],  A.  S.  ravV. 
</*Vfc  (rt'/V/),  from  ^«  (to  do],  A.  S.  ^(M'>  from  don. 
drake  (dragon},  A.  S.  draca,  Lat.  </;vrf0. 

drifcnn  (driven),  from  drifcnn  (to  ;/r/7v),  A.  S.  ^r//?;/,  from  ^H/iz«. 
frctcnn  (to fret,  trans.),  A.  $.  frctan  (to  cat  up). 
^/V,  pi.  oigladd  (glad},  glade nn  (to gladden} ,  A.  §.  gliid,  gladian. 
godess,  gen.  tf godd  (god],  but  pi.  goddess,  A.  S.  t<W. 
grcsess  (grasses],  sing.  \Kgrcsshoppc  (grasshopper},  A.  S.  gras,g«rs, 

giirsJwppa. 
hafenn,  but   habbenn    (to    have),    Jiafcsst,    but   7/^jr/  (//«j/),    //rt^fr 

(/.v^/),  A.  S.  Jiabban,  Ju'Jst,  li<"<Jde. 
hcfil  (heavy},  A.  S.  /^//>. 
heofenu   (heaven},  in   comp.,   but  as  separate  word  heoJJ'ne,  hcjfne, 

A.  S.  heofon. 

hiderr  (hither),  A.  S.  hider. 
hise,  pi.  oi  hiss  (his),  A.  S.  7//J. 
////;/ /^  (honey),  A.  S.  hunig. 
kidc  (/vV/),O.  N.  /vV/. 
klness,  kuie  (comm.  kin  ness,  kinnc},  gen.  and  pi.  of  k  inn  (kin,  kind}, 

A.  S.  ry//. 

lifcthth  (Uveth),  from  libbenn  (to  //TV),  A.  S.  lifcidh,  libban. 
limess  (limbs),  sing,  not  in  O.,  A.  S.  //;;/,  pi.  Icomu,  limn, 
lit  ell  (little),  pi.  7//M-,  A.  S.  /j^-7. 
lokcnn  (shut  in,  cf.  locked},  A.  S.  loccn,  from  Idcan. 
lotess,  pi.  of  loft  (Jot),  A.  S.  7/7<p/,  pi.  /-/^///. 
7;//<?  (love],  htfenn  (to  'love},  but  htffsumm  (pleasant),  A.  S.  7?//>/,  htjian, 

lufsum. 

mani^,  mani  (many},  A.  S.  manig. 

mi k ell  (great,  many,  micklc,  much},  but  pi.  miccle,  A.  S.  micel. 
minctcrcss   (money-changers,  cf.  minter,  mint),  A.  S.  myneterc,  from 

my  net  (money},  Lat.  moneta. 

muneclif  (monk-life),  A.  S.  nntnec  (monk),  Lat.  monachus.. 
naru  (narrow),  but  pi.  narrice,  A.  S.  near n. 
nile  (niH\&,  i.  c.  ivill  not),  but  ;/////  («'///  //<?/),  A.  S.  «r/7r,  AT//. 
<?/";/<?  (crvcn},  dat.  of  of  en  n  (?  not  in  O.),  A.  S.  0/t'tt. 
peninng  (penny},  A.  ^>.  pending,  pening,  pcnig. 
rathe  (quickly,  cf,  rathe,  rather),  A.  S.  hradhc,  JiradJior,  from  hrfidh 

(quick). 
risenn  (risen},  from  risen  n  (to  r/j^),  A.  S.  risen,  from  r'tsan. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  289 

O.  rotcnrt  (to  rot},  A.  S.  rotian. 

Saterrda^  (Saturday),  A.  S.  Saterndiig,  Lat.  Saturni  dies. 

seofenn,  sefenn  (seven},  but  also  seoffne,  seffne  ;   seofennti^  (seventy}  : 

A.  S.  scofon,  hundseofontig. 
shetenn  (to  shut  up),  A.  S.  scyttan. 
sikcrr  (sure,   Sc.    sicker),   O.    Sax.   sikor,  O.  H.  Germ,  sihhur,  Lat. 

securus. 

slue,  rare  for  sinne  (sin),  A.  S.  jrj/#. 

skathelces  (unharmed,  scat  hie  ss},  A.  S.  sceadha  (harmer). 
stafess,  pi.   of  staff  (letter,  cf.   jfo^;  old  pi.  staves),  A.  S.  stiif  (staff , 

letter). 

j /<?</<?  (place,  cf.  stead),  A.  S.  stede, 

stekenn  (to  confine,  cf.  to  J//V/6,  remain  fast),  A.  S.  stician. 
stoke  (stock),  dat.  of  stocc  (?  not  in  O.),  A.  S.  stoc. 
sume,  pi.  ofsumm  (some),  A.  S.  sum. 
sumerr  (summer),  A.  S.  sumor. 
sune  (son),  A.  S.  suuu. 
Sunenndafa  (Sunday),   from  sunne,  rarely  sune  (STIH),  A.  S.  sunne, 

Sunnandag. 

thidcrr  (thither),  A.  S.  thider. 
fullthrifcnn  (complete,  cf.  thriven},  O.  N.  thrifinn,  from  thrifask  (to 

thrive}. 
thripell  (triple),  from  Lat.  triplex,  Fr.  triple,  confused  with  A.  S.  tliri  ; 

cf.  prov.  Eng.  thribble. 

trcdenn  (to  tread,  trodden),  A.  S.  trcdan,  trcden. 
whiderrivarrd  (whitherward),  A.  S.  hwider. 
ividewe,  comm.  widdwe  (widow),  A.  S.  widwe,  ivydeive. 
ivilenn  (to  «////),  but  willt  (wilt),  A.  S.  willan,  wilt. 
witenn   (to  know,  cf.  to    wit,  O.   E.  to    weet),  but  impv.  -ze////,   A.    S. 

wit  an,  wit. 
writenn  (written),  from  writenn  (to  write),  A.  S.  writen,  from  wr'itan  : 

cf.  O.  write ss,  pi.  of  writt  (writ),  A.  S.  wr//. 
wude  (wood),  A.  S.  wudu. 
w une dd  (wont),  from    wunenn   (to    accustom),  A.   S.  wuna,  gewuna 

(custom). 

letcnn  (to get),  ytt  (gets),  bi^etcnn  (gotten},  A.  S.  bcgitan,  begiten. 
lifcnn  (to  give,  given),  also  written  with^-,  but  impv.  37^",  A.  S.  gifan, 

gifen,  gif. 

That  this  change — the  lengthening  of  an  accented  short 
vowel  in  an  open  syllable — was  still  in  progress  at  the  time 
of  the  Ormulum,  so  that  the  usage  in  respect  to  it  was  then 
unsettled  and  fluctuating,  is  apparent  from  indications  in  the 
book  itself.  A  number  of  the  words  given  in  the  last  two 
lists  have  here  and  there  a  mark  of  short  quantity  written 
over  the  vowel,  as  if  the  writer,  having  first  given  it  as  long 
19 


290  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

with  only  a  single  consonant  after  it,  was  afterwards  inclined 
to  recall  his  judgment,  to  set  it  down  as  short,  and  therefore 
drew  a  curve  line  over  it,  this  being  an  easier  way  than  dou 
bling  the  consonant  by  interlineation.  What  makes  this  ex 
planation  more  probable  is  the  fact  that,  while  there  are  more 
than  forty  distinct  words  which  in  one  place  or  another  have 
this  short  mark  over  them,  it  occurs  in  almost  every  case  over 
an  accented  vowel  in  an  open  syllable.  That  there  was  a 
special  vacillation  on  the  part  of  the  writer  as  to  the  quantity 
of  such  vowels  seems  a  natural,  if  it  is  not  a  necessary,  in 
ference  from  this  fact.  Thus  bcrcnn  (to  bear]  is  once  at  least 
written  with  a  mark  of  short  quantity  over  the  accented 
vowel;  and  the  same  is  true  of  bcde  (bede),  dale  (dale],  hatenn 
(to  hate],  Jictc  (hate],  ladenn  (to  lade),  late  (late),  niele(meal), 
mete  (meat),  name  (name),  stelen  (to  steal],  takcnn  (to  take), 
tale  (tale)  ;  also  bite  (bit),  cndc  (end),  kine  (kin),  lifethth 
(liveth),  sine  (sin),  stede  (stead),  thrifenn  (thriven),  wilenn 
(to  will),  witenn  (to  wit),  witcnn  (written). 

Under  the  broad  euphonic  analogies  and  tendencies  which 
have  now  been  described  come  all  but  a  comparatively  small 
number  of  the  cases  in  which  the  modern  English  quantity 
differs  from  that  in  the  Ormulum.  There  remain,  however, 
some  few  changes  which  are  not  altogether  of  an  isolated 
character.  A  long  vowel  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  the  Ormu 
lum  has  in  a  good  many  instances  been  shortened  before  a 
final  mute.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  the  old  long  o 
before  a  finals-sound.  The  long  quantity  of  that  vowel  was 
indicated  in  early  English  by  doubling  the  o  :  thus  boc  was 
written  book.  The  sound  afterwards  changed  to  that  which  we 
hear  in  spoon,  spool ;  and  still  later  was  shortened  to  its  pres 
ent  pronunciation.  Instances  of  this  kind  are— 
O.  boc*  (book],  A.  S.  boc. 

croc  (hook  or  crook,  device),  O.  N.  krok-r. 

lokenn  (to  look),  A.  S.  tician. 

forrsoc  (forsook),  from  forrsakenn  (to  forsake),  A.  ^.forsoc,  from 
for  sac  an. 

toe  (took),  from  takcnn  (to  take),  A.  S.  toe,  from  tacan. 
*  In  this  word,  and  in  several  others,  where  a  long  vowel  has  become  short  be 
fore  a  final  consonant,  the  Scotch  retains  the  earlier  long  quantity:   thus,    bulk, 
bruik,  bhiid,  gude,  etc. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  391 

Occasionally  other  long  vowels  have  become  short  before  a 
/--sound,  as  in  — 

O.  brukenn  (to  use,  enjoy,  cf.  to  brook],  A.  S.  brucan. 
fie  (fig),  vhfictre  {fig-tree),  A.  ^>.fic,  \^?&.ficus. 
seoc,  sec  (sick},  A.  S.  seoc. 

strac  (passed,  cf.  struck,  O.  E.  strook],  A.  S.  strac,  from  s  trie  an. 
wic  (dwelling,  street,  cf.  SwanwzV/t,  GreenwzV//),  A.  S.  wdc. 

The  same  change  of  quantity  has  taken  place  not  unfre- 
quently  before  d,  seldomer  before  /  /  thus — 

O.  blod  (blood},  A.  S.  Mod. 
fiod  (flood],  A,  S.jtid. 
god  (good],  A.  S.  god. 

stod  (stood],  from  stanndenn  (to  stand],  A.  S.  stod,  from  standan. 
wod  (mad,  Sc.  wud],  A.  S.  wod. 
breed  (bread],  A.  S.  bread, 
deed  (dead],  A.  S.  dead. 

drcedenn,  dredcnn  (to  dread],  A.  S.  drtzdan. 
hcefedd  (head},  A.  S.  hedfod. 
shcedenn  (to  part,  cf.  to  shed],  A.  S.  sccadan. 
shrcedenn  (to  shred,  pare,  cf.  Sc.  screed},  A.  S.  screadian. 
but,  comm.  butt  (but,  except),  A.  S.  bdtan. 
fot  (foot],  A.  S./o/. 
hat  (hot],  A.  S.  hat. 
Icetenn  and  Ictenn  (to  /r/,  allow,  also  as  part,  let],  pf.  let  (he  /^/),  A.  S. 

ICE  tan,  Ice  ten,  pf.  /^/. 
swat  (sweat],  A.  S.  swat. 

wcete  (drink),  from  wat  (not  in  O.,  wet,  Sc.  weet),  A.  S.  w^A 
•ze/«/,  also  watt  (wot],  from  witenn  (to  know,  cf.  to  w//),  A.  S.   wat, 
from  wit  an. 

In  bcdcthth  or  biddcthth  (biddctJi],  forrbcdethtJi  (forbiddetJi], 
the  long  form  comes  from  A.  S.  beodan  (to  command),  the 
short  one  from  A.  S.  biddan  (to  entreat)  ;  in  biddcnn  (to  com 
mand,  to  entreat)  of  the  Ormulum,  the  forms  of  the  two  verbs 
are  very  much  confounded. 

The  few  cases  in  which  the  difference  of  quantity  between 
the  Ormulum  and  the  modern  English  is  not  to  be  explained 
from  principles  already  set  forth,  will  be  found,  so  far  as  I 
have  noted  them,  in  the  following  list  : 

O.  amcen  (amen],  Gr.  'a/.*?/*;. 

an  (an,  one],   rarely   aim;  nan   (none);  onnan,  anan,   also  anann 


292 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 


O.  (anon)  ;  A.   S.  an,   n'm.     Eng.  alone,  atone,  only,   and   Sc.  «;/<?, 

nane,  preserve  the  original  long  quantity. 
ani\  (any'],  A.  S.  a;  nig. 
bcon,  ben  (to  be,  been],  A.  S.  be<~>n  (to  /v)  :  the  long  sound  of  been  is 

still  sometimes  heard. 

caritcth  (charity],  Fr.  charite,  Prov.  caritat,  Lat.  car  Has. 
chcle,  also  <r/^7f  (t7//7/,  subs.),  A.  S.  tv/,-. 
(f/^///  (clothing,  cf.  f/'////,  but  pi.  clothes),  A.  S.  ctf.dh. 
cuthc  (could},  A.  S.  cu.dhe. 

dcef(i:af,  cf.  Sc.  ^-vzzv,  to  deafen),  A.  S.  d:<if. 
dceth  (death],  A.  S.  detdh. 

deofcll,  defell  (devil,  Sc.  dcevil),  A.  S.  ^y^/,  Lat.  diabolus. 
dotJi  (doth,   usual  pron.  datli],  from   don    (to   ;/<?),    A.    S.  dcdh,  from 


(  flesh),  A.  ^.fi<T.sc. 
glutcrrnessc  (gluttony),  O.  Fr.  gloutonnic  (from  glouton,  Lat.  gliitn(ii), 

from  glutire)  :   in  glutcrrnessc  English  affixes  are  attached  to  the 

root  (glut)  of  the  Latin  and  French  words. 
gy;j  (art,  device,  ci.gin),  shortened  from  O.  Fr.  engin,  but  perhaps 

confused  with  a  derivative  of  O.  X.  ginna  (to  deceive). 
inoh  (enough,  also  enow),  A.  *$>.  genng,  genoh, 
bikcecJicdd  (catcJied),  also  bikahht  (caugJit)  ;   of  uncertain  origin. 
prof  etc,  prophet  c  (prophet),  Lat.  propli^ta. 
publicaness  (publicans),  Lat.  public<~<ni. 
rcedi\  (ready),  also  rccdclike,  A.  S.  nr^/^,  radl'ic. 
ricJie  (rieh),  A.  S.  r'ice, 

sari\  (sorry),  but  jt-z;v  (sorely),  A.  S.  snrig,  from  j/7/-  (J^;Y). 
j^////5   (happily),  A.   S.  scclig,  gcscclig  (happy,    Sc.  secly),  whence  E. 

silly. 

shcphirdc  (shepherd],  from  shep  (sheep),  A.  S.  sceap,  sccaphirde. 
shunenn  (to  shun),  A.  S.  scanian. 
tene  (ten),  rarely  tcnn,   tende   (tenth),  A.  S.   tyn,  ten,   tcndha,  O.  X. 

t  Hindi  (tenth}.     The  old  long  quantity  is  preserved  in  the  com 

pounds  thirteen,  thirteenth,  etc.,  and  in  Sc.  teinds  (tithes). 
onnycness   (against,  again),  outran   (again,   against),  A.   S.  ongean 

(against). 

let  (yet),  strangely  lengthened  in  O.,  A.  S.  git,  get,  giet,  gyt. 
drunncnenn  (to  drown  ,  trans.),  in  form  =  A.  S.  druncnian  (to  get  one 

drunk),  cf.  O.  X.  drukna  (to  be  drowned). 
enngeU  (angel),  A.  S.  cngd,  O.ngd,  Lat.  angelus. 
flumni  (river,  ct.Jliiinc),  O.  Yr.Jtum,  'L^.Jlumcn. 
funnt  (font,  cf.  fount),  A.  S.font,  Lat.  fons,  font-is. 
irrcnc  (of  iron,   fcrrcus),  from  ircnn   (iron),  A.    S.  "trcn  (fcrrum  and 

ferreus)  :   rr  in  irrene  perhaps  an  oversight. 
munnt  (mount),  A.  S.  munt,  Lat.  mons,  vwnt-is. 
sannt  (saint),  A.  S.  sanct,  Lat.  sanctus. 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 


293 


O.  sleckenn*  slckkenn  (to  slake),  A.  S.  slcac  (slack),  gesleccan  (to  slack 

en),  O.  N.  slokkva  (to  .?/«&-)• 

thurrh  (through),  A.  S.  thnrh,  tlniruh  (through,  thorough}. 
luaccnenn  (to  waken,  trans,  and  intrans.),  A.  S.  wilcnan  :  lengthened 
in  E.  under  influence  of  A?  wake,  O.  wakenn,  A.  S.  wacan. 
(whom),  from  w//«  (who),  A.  S.  hwam,  from 
.  geoc,  gioc. 


In  the  case  of  ^v;/,  could,  deaf,  death,  enough,  ready, 
again,  against,  the  spelling  shows  that  they  came  into  Eng 
lish  with  the  long  quantity  which  they  had  in  the  Ormulum. 
The  preterits  barr  (bare,  bore,  A.  S.  bar),  bat  (bit,  A.  S.  bat), 
brace  (brake,  broke,  A.  S.  brae],  eonim  (came,  A.  S.  cwam, 
coui),  cwathth  (quoth,  A.  S.  cwiid/i),  saJiJi  (saw,  A.  S.  seaJi), 
space  (spake,  spoke,  A.  S.  sprac),  \aff  (  gave,  A.  S.  geaf)%  have 
not  been  placed  in  the  foregoing  lists,  because  the  English 
forms,  though  used  in  both  numbers,  correspond  apparently 
to  the  plurals  of  the  A.  S.  (bceron,  biiou,  brcecon,  cwanion  or 
coinon,  cwcsdon,  sdwon  or  scegon,  spree  con,  gedfori)  and  the 
O.  (bcerenn,  comenn,  sce\Jicnn,  spcekenn,  \cefenri)  :  inr/(he  ate, 
A.  S.  at)  with  long  e  like  pi.  etcnn  (they  ate,  A.  S.  cetoii),  the 
same  extension  of  the  plural  quantity  to  the  singular  appears 
even  in  the  Ormulum.  The  on  in  the  English  preterits  bound, 
found,  wound  —  A.  S.  I,  3  sing,  band,  fand,  wand,  pi.  bund- 
on,  fundon,wundon  ;  O.  sing,  band,  fand,  wand,  pi.  bnndcnn, 
fundenn  —  is  to  be  explained  in  the  same  way.-f 

We  have  not  yet  attended  to  the  suffixes  of  inflection  and 
derivation  ;  but  for  these  only  a  few  words  will  be  necessary. 
The  inflectional  endings  are  all  short  in  the  Ormulum  :  there 
is  reason,  indeed,  to  believe  that  such  as  were  originally  long 
had  become  short  during  the  Anglo-Saxon  period.  Thus  the 
Ormulum  has 

-ess  in  the    gen.   sing.  :    as  flashess   kinde  {flesh's   kindred,  A.   S. 

flasces  gecynd*). 

-ess  in  the  plural  :     as  Icechcss  (leeches,  A.  S.  Icecas,  earlier  Icecas  or 
lacias)  . 

*  The  digraph  ck,  in  the  Ormulum,  is  equivalent  to  cc  or  kk,  and  marks  the 
vowel  before  it  as  short.  At  the  end  of  a  word,  or  before  a  consonant,  cc  is  alone 
used  ;  if  a  vowel  follows  in  the  same  word,  ck  or  kk  takes  its  place. 

f  For  several  of  these  preterits  the  Scottish  dialect  has  forms  —  such  as  brak, 
cam,  spak,  fand,  etc.  —  which  correspond  to  those  here  given  from  the  Ormulum. 


294  ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY. 

I 

-err  in  the  compar.  forrtherr  (further,  A.  S.  furdhor),  itam forth 
(forth,  A.  S.ford/t)  :  in  the  compar.  of  adjectives  the  O.  has  -re 
(A.  S.  -ret,  -re),  as  fu Ire  (fouler,  A.  S.  falrci).  In  E.,  -er  has 
become  long  by  change  of  r. 

-esst  in  the  superl.  :  as  dcrcsst  (dearest,  A.  S.  defrost,  dearest). 

-esst  in  the  2cl  person  of  verbs  :   as  hcrcsst  (hearest,  A.  S.  hyresf). 

-ctJitli  in  the  3d  person  of  verbs  :   as  loketlitJi  (looketJi,  A.  S.  locadk}. 

-enn  in  the  past  part.  :   as  haldenn  (Jiolden,  A.  S.  Jiealdeii). 

-edd\\\  the  past  part.  :   as  tuundcdd  (wounded,  A.  S.  wundod). 

The  -de  of  the  weak  preterit  is  usually  added  directly  to 
the  stem,  as  drcdde  (he  dreaded).  The  present  participle  ter 
minates  in  -enndc  (A.  S.  -ende],  but  is  rare  in  the  O.,  the  only 
instances  where  it  is  a  proper  participle  being  bcernennde 
(burning),  dwallkennde  (misleading),  glowcnndc  (glowing), 
and  stinnkennde  (stinking).  The  suffix  -inng  is  very  frequent, 
but  always  forms  a  verbal  substantive  ;  while  -uiig,  which  in 
Anglo-Saxon  is  more  used  for  this  purpose,  is  in  O.  confined 
to  the  word  rcoivwsunng  (rueing,  repentance)  and  two  or  three 
others.  Suffixes  of  this  kind,  found  both  in  O.  and  in  E.,  are— 

-ell  (K.  S.  -cl)  :  ^girrdell  (girdle). 

-ene  (A.  S.  -en}  :   as  brasene  (brazeii). 

-ere  (A.  S.  -ere)  :  as  mineteress  (winters,  money-changers)  ;  very 
rare  in  O.  ;  another  instance  perhaps  \\\forrle\errnesse  (fornica 
tion). 

-inng  (A.  S.  -ing,  -ung]  :  as  biginninng  (beginning),  lafcrrdinngess 
(lord  ings). 

-issh  (A.  S.  -isc)  :  as  shcpisshc  (sheeplike,  sheepish}. 

-i\  (A.  S.  -ig)  \   as  modi^  (woody). 

-linng  (A.  S.  -ling)  :   as  derrlinng  (darling). 

-nesse  (A.  S.  -ncs)  :   as godnesse  (goodness),  iviftncss  (witness). 

-stcrc  (A.  S.  -stre)  :   only  in  huccstercss  (huckster's). 

In  final  -ene  and  -ere,  the  first  e,  short  in  A.  S.,  is  length 
ened  by  the  open  syllable  :  the  English  -er  is  of  course  long. 
Final  -i\  is  long  in  consequence  of  the  partial  vocalization  of 
the^-  (compare  the  effect  of  a  weak  r\  while  the  correspond 
ing  suffix  -y  of  the  later  language,  discarding  the  semivowel, 
has  returned  to  the  short  quantity  of  A.  S.  -ig.  The  same 
changes  appear  in  the  numerals  tivcnnti\,  thritti\t  fowwerrti^ 
etc.  (twenty,  thirty,  forty,  etc.,  A.  S.  twcntig,  tJirittig,  fco- 
wertig,  etc.)  But  in  the  suffix  -//}  (our-/j/)  the  vowel  was 


ENGLISH  VOWEL  QUANTITY.  295 

! 

originaliy  long,  the  words  which  contain  it  being  compounds 
of  the  adj.  like  (O.  lie,  A.  S.gclic).  Suffixes  of  this  kind 
(really  words  in  composition)  are  the  following,  found  both  in 
the  Ormulum  and  in  English  : 

-dom  (A.  S.  -dom)  :  as  horedom  (whoredom}. 
-fald  (A.  S.  -fcald)  :   as  t  href  aid  (threefold]. 

-fasst  (A.  S.  -fUst)  :  as  stedcfasst  (steadfast)  ;  in  shammfasst  (shame 
faced}  the  form  has  been  changed  by  mistaken  popular  ety 
mology. 

-full  (A.  S.  -ful}  :  as  sinnfutt  (sinful}.  * 

-had  (A.  S.  -had}  :  as  ma  fodennhad  (maidenhood,  maidenhead}. 
-lac  (A.  S.  -lac)  :  only  in  weddlac  (wedlock}. 
-Ices  (A.  S.   -leas)  :  as    child  Ices  (childless}  ;  rarely  -less,  as  endeless 

(endless}. 

-lie,  -like  or  -li]  (A.  S.  -lie)  :  as  eorthlic,  eorthlikc,  corthlii  (earthly). 
-manii  (A.  S.  -man)  :  as  allderrmann  (alderman). 
-shipc  (A.  S.  -scipe)  :   as  wurrthshipc  and  wurrshipc  (worship). 
-summ  (A.  S.  -sum)  :   as  halsumm  (wholesome). 
-warrd  (A.  S.  -weard}  :  as  affterrwarrd  (afterward). 


In  -/#/#  and  -shipe,  the  Ormulum  has  lengthened  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  short  vowel,  from  the  influence  of  Id  in  the  first  case, 
and  of  an  open  syllable  in  the  second  ;  as  to  the  last,  the 
English  agrees  with  the  Anglo-Saxon.  The  short  vowel  of 
-warrd  has  been  lengthened  in  English  by  the  weak  r  ;  while 
the  long  vowel  has  been  shortened  in  -dom,  -had,  -lac,  Ices, 
two  of  which  end  with  mute  sounds.  In  Ices,  the  change  had 
commenced  in  the  thirteenth  century.  The  Ormulum  has  in 
many  words  a  suffix  -le\\c  —  as  seen  in  godle\\c,=godncsse 
(goodness)  —  which  corresponds  to  -leik-r  (=A.  S.  -lac),  a  fre 
quent  suffix  in  the  Old  Norse.  Peculiar  cases  are  rihhtwis 
(righteous,  A.  S.  rihtwis),  and  stall  wprrthli$  (stoutly,  cf. 
stalwart,  A.  S.  stdlweordh). 


XVI. 
TENNYSON'S    PRINCESS.* 

1849- 

MANY  readers  hav&  confessed  the  disappointment  which 
they  felt  upon  their  first  acquaintance  with  <(  The  Prin 
cess  :"  and  perhaps  nothing  but  the  want  of  equal  frankness 
has  kept  back  many  others  from  the  same  confession.  Though 
[in  1849]  not  extensively  read  in  this  country,  Mr.  Tennyson 
had  come  to  be  rated,  according  to  his  fame  at  home,  as  first 
among  the  English  poets  of  the  present  generation.  A  large 
class  of  readers,  who  had  taken  this  opinion  upon  trust,  were 
looking  to  see  it  confirmed  in  his  forthcoming  poem,  which, 
as  the  public  were  assured  in  sundry  notices,  was  to  be  the 
longest  and  the  most  elaborate  of  his  productions.  Great  in 
many  cases  was  their  disappointment,  when,  instead  of  a 
second  Paradise  Lost,  they  found  what  seemed  to  them  only 
a  grotesque  extravaganza  about  "  woman's  rights."  But 
there  were  others,  old  admirers  of  the  poet,  familiar  with  his 
earlier  pieces  ;  who  had  dwelt  delighted  on  the  splendid  pomp 
of  his  "  Morte  d' Arthur,"  the  epic  breadth  of  his  "  Ulysses," 
the  energy  and  passion  of  his  "  Locksley  Hall,"  that  miracle 
of  condensation  ;  and  who  were  now  expecting  to  find  all  the 
merits  of  their  favorite's  youthful  genius,  united  and  exalted  in 
this  effort  of  his  riper  years.  But  lo  !  instead  of  the  Gothic 
cathedral  or  the  Egyptian  pyramid  on  which  their  hopes  were 
fixed,  they  see,  much  to  their  surprise,  only  a  glittering  castle 
in  the  air.  Chagrined  to  find  the  work  so  different  from  their 
preconceptions,  they  shut  their  eyes  to  its  indisputable  merits. 
Its  grace  and  gayety,  its  genial  humor,  its  aptness  of  expres 
sion,  its  brilliancy  of  coloring  go  for  little  with  those  whose 
minds  were  set  on  greater  things.  Qualities  which  mieht  have 


"  The  Princess :  a  Medley  ;  by  Alfred  Tennyson.      Boston  :   William  1).  Tick- 
nor  &  Co. 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS.  297 

pleased  them  in  a  Christmas  romance  or  a  fairy  tale  for  chil 
dren,  seem  out  of  place  in  what  they  had  predestined  for  the 
master-piece  of  a  great  poet.  Still  they  read  on,  hopeful  of  a 
change  ;  hoping  that  suddenly,  as  by  some  flourish  of  an  en 
chanter's  wand,  the  fantastic  air-castle  may  settle  down  into 
the  solidity  and  solemnity  of  the  Egyptian  pyramid.  Nor  are 
there  wanting  here  and  there  tokens  of  such  a  metamorphosis  : 
the  colors  seem  to  deepen  ;  the  forms  to  take  on  fixity  and 
definiteness  ;  laughing  extravagance  to  give  signs  of  earnest 
ness  and  truth.  These  appearances,  however,  prove  illusory  : 
the  edifice,  though  more  imposing  than  it  looked  at  first,  has 
yet  neither  substance  nor  foundation  ;  it  is  thin  air,  and  not 
genuine  brick  and  mortar  ;  "  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision," 
without  strength  or  unity  or  grandeur.  And  so  the  disap 
pointed  reader  shuts  his  book,  doubting  his  past  convictions 
of  its  author's  genius,  and  renouncing,  for  the  time  at  least, 
his  faith  in  Tennyson. 

Not  a  few,  it  is  believed,  will  recognize  in  this  description 
a  tolerably  accurate  rehearsal  of  their  own  experience.  Even 
of  those  whose  first  impressions  were  more  favorable,  few 
perhaps  would  say  that  the  work  fully  satisfied  their  expecta 
tions.  On  the  other  hand,  fewer  still  would  venture  to  deny 
that  there  is  much  in  it  which  is  excellent  and  admirable. 
The  severest  critic  must  acknowledge  that  its  faults,  however 
serious,  are  redeemed  by  many  beauties  of  detail.  A  recol 
lection  of  its  beauties  has  won  back  the  complainer,  recover 
ing  from  the  first  flurry  of  his  disappointment,  to  a  reperusal 
of  the  poem.  Reading  now  as  one  who  having  formed  his 
judgment  is  no  longer  forced  to  play  the  critic,  he  proceeds 
in  a  more  cheerful  mood,  with  a  mind  more  open  to  all 
sources  of  enjoyment.  Things  which  at  first  offended  him 
are  grown  familiar,  so  that  if  they  do  not  please  they  at  least 
cease  to  be  offensive.  At  the  same  time,  new  felicities  and 
beauties,  hitherto  unnoticed,  rise  before  him  ;  they  gather 
and  grow  thick  about  him  as  he  advances;  and  when  he  has  a 
second  time  attained  the  goal,  he  is  ready  to  retract,  if  he 
has  not  quite  forgotten  them,  his  former  disparaging  criti 
cisms. 

It  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  the  work  in  any  abstract 


298  TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

of  its  story  ;  and  yet  we  know  not  how  to  make  the  criticisms 
which  we  have  to  offer  intelligible  without  some  statement  of 
the  plot.  We  shall  follow  closely  in  the  author's  track,  and 
tell  the  tale  as  much  as  possible  in  his  own  words. 

The  performance  opens  with  an  overture  which  for  its  airy 
gracefulness  of  movement  and  dexterous-announcement  of  the 
theme  could  hardly  be  surpassed.  Here  the  poet  shows  him 
self  a  true  man  of  the  nineteenth  century  ;  one  not  so  enam 
ored  of  the  past  as  to  have  lost  all  consciousness  and  sym 
pathy  for  the  present.  He  can  enjoy  the  fresh  breath  of  the 
passing  day,  and  drive  gayly  on  with  the  living  currents  of  con 
temporaneous  thought  and  action.  His  "Prologue"  con 
tains  a  spirited  miniature  of  the  age,  dashed  off  in  a  few 
characteristic  strokes  which  bring  the  very  form  and  pressure 
of  the  time  before  us. 

The  scene  opens  in  the  grounds  of  Sir  Walter  Vivian  : — 

"  No  little  lily-handed  Baronet  he, 
A  great  broad-shoulder'd  genial  Englishman, 
A  lord  of  fat  prize-oxen  and  of  sheep, 
A  raiser  of  huge  melons  and  of  pine, 
A  patron  of  some  thirty  charities, 
A  pamphleteer  on  guano  and  on  grain, 
A  quarter-sessions  chairman,  abler  none  ; 
Fair-hair'd  and  redder  than  a  windy  morn." 

This  variously  accomplished  knight,  we  are  informed,— 

"all  a  summer's  day 

Gave  his  broad  lawns  until  the  set  of  sun 
Up  to  the  people  ;   thither  flock'd  at  noon 
His  tenants,  wife  and  child,  and  thither  half 
The  neighboring  borough  with  their  Institute, 
Of  which  he  was  the  patron.      I  was  there 
From  college,  visiting  the  son — the  son 
A  Walter  too — with  others  of  our  set." 

The  young  Walter  takes  his  friends  about  the  house,  show 
ing  its  curiosities,  a  heterogeneous  collection,  and  producing 
an  old  chronicle  of  its  ancient  owners,  where  they  read  the  ex 
ploits  of  Sir  Ralph,  a  crusading  hero  of  the  family,  and  of— 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS.  299 

"  a  lady,  one  that  arm'd 

Her  own  fair  head,  and  sallying  thro'  the  gate, 
Had  beat  her  foes  with  slaughter  from  her  walls." 

The  party  at  length  set  forth  on  a  visit  to  the  ruins  of  an 
Abbey  in  the  Park.  On  their  way  they  view  the  multitude 
scattered  in  groups  over  the  meadow,  and  variously  occupied  ; 
some  listening,  while  "  the  patient  leaders  of  their  Institute 
taught  them  with  facts,"  or  watching  illustrative  experiments 
with  mimic  fountain,  fire-balloon,  steam-engine,  and  electric 
telegraph,  while  others  are  engaged  in  the  less  scientific 
amusements  of  cricket-playing,  fiddling,  and  dancing.  Ar 
rived  at  the  Abbey,  our  youths  fall  in  with  Aunt  Elizabeth, 
an  elderly  maiden  lady  of  grave  deportment,  and  sister  Lilia, 
"half  child,  half  woman,"  who  had  just  attired  the  broken 
statue  of  Sir  Ralph  in  scarf  and  shawl,  the  gay  costume  of  a 
modern  belle.  The  sight  of  this  "  feudal  warrior  lady-clad" 
brings  up  the  old  chronicle  before  mentioned,  and  with  it  the 
heroic  lady  and  her  martial  daring  :  and  then  the  question 
rises,  "  Where  lives  such  a  woman  now  ?  " 

"  Quick  answer'd  Lilia,  '  There  are  thousands  now 
Such  women,  but  convention  beats  them  down  : 
It  is  but  bringing  up  ;  no  more  than  that  : 
You  men  have  done  it  :  how  I  hate  you  all ! 
O  were  I  some  great  Princess,  I  would  build 
Far  off  from  men  a  college  of  my  own, 
And  I  would  teach  them  all  things  :  you  should  see.' 

And  one  said  smiling,  '  Pretty  were  the  sight 
If  our  old  halls  could  change  their  sex,  and  flaunt 
With  prudes  for  proctors,  dowagers  for  deans, 
And  sweet  girl-graduates  in  their  golden  hair. 

—Yet  I  fear, 

If  there  were  many  Lilias  in  the  brood, 
However  deep  you  might  embower  the  nest, 
Some  boy  would  spy  it.' 

At  this  upon  the  sward 
She  tapt  her  tiny  silken-sandaPd  foot  : 
'  That's  your  light  way  ;  but  I  would  make  it  death 
For  any  male  thing  but  to  peep  at  us,' " 


300  TENNYSON1  S  PRINCESS. 

The  conversation  passes  on  to  college  recreations  :  Christ 
mas  tales  are  mentioned,  extemporaneous  fictions  in  which 
the  whole  company  participate,  each  one  taking  up  the  story 
where  his  neighbor  left  it.  A  new  thought  presents  itself:— 

"  '  Why  not  a  summer's  as  a  winter's  tale  ? 
A  tale  for  summer,  as  befits  the  time  ; 
And  something  it  should  be  to  suit  the  place, 
Grave,  moral,  solemn,  like  the  mouldering  walls 
About  us.'  " 

The  hint  is  followed  up  ;  a  tale  resolved  on,  and  the  "  first 
person"  in  our  Prologue  named  as  leader,  with  the  direction, 
"be,  if  you  will,  yourself  your  hero." 

"  '  Look  then,'  added  he, 

<xSince  Lilia  would  be  princess,  that  you  stoop 
No  lower  than  a  prince.' 

To  which  I  said, 

'  Take  care  then  that  my  tale  be  followed  out 
By  all  the  lieges  in  my  royal  vein  : 
But  one  that  really  suited  time  and  place 
Were  such  a  medley,  we  should  have  him  back 
Who  told  the  Winter's  Tale  to  do  it  for  us  : 
A  Gothic  ruin  and  a  Grecian  house, 
A  talk  of  College  and  of  ladies'  rights, 
A  feudal  knight  in  silken  masquerade, 
And  there  with  shrieks  and  strange  experiments 
For  which  the  good  Sir  Ralph  had  burnt  them  all, 
The  nineteenth  century  gambols  on  the  grass.' " 

He  then  commences,  representing  himself  as  a  Prince 
whose  father  rules  with  rigid  sway  over  a  wide  kingdom 
situated  somewhere  in  high  northern  latitudes.  While  yet 
an  infant  he  had  been  betrothed  to  the  infant  Princess  of  a 
neighboring  country,  equally  indefinite  in  situation,  being 
described  only  as  lying  south  of  the  former.  But  when  the 
time  has  come  to  execute  the  contract,  and  an  embassy  is 
sent  with  costly  gifts  to  fetch  the  lady,  there  appears  an  un 
expected  obstacle  :  the  Princess  cannot  be  induced  to  come  : 
"she  has  a  will — and  maiden  fancies;  loves  to  live  alone 
among  her  women:  certain  will  not  wed."  The  northern 
king,  furious  at  this  violation  of  a  solemn  compact,  "  sware 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 


301 


that  he  would  send  a  hundred  thousand  men  and  fetch  her  in 
a  whirlwind."  Our  hero  remonstrates  ;  urges  milder  courses  ; 
offers  to  go  himself  and  ascertain  the  truth.  Failing  to  gain 
permission,  he  takes  the  matter  into  his  own  hands  ;  steals 
from  court  "  with  Cyril  and  with  Florian,  his  two  friends  ;  " 
flying  southward  crosses  the  frontier,  and  so  journeys  on 
until  he — 

"gained  the  mother-city  thick  with  towers, 
And  in  the  imperial  palace  found  the  king. 
His  name  was  Gama  ;  cracked  and  small  his  voice  : 
A  little  dry  old  man,  without  a  star, 
Not  like  a  king." 

The  Prince  speaks  of  his  betrothed,  and  Gama  answers — • 

11 1  would  you  had  her,  Prince,  with  all  my  heart, 
With  my  full  heart  ;  but  there  were  widows  here, 
Two  widows,  Lady  Psyche,  Lady  Blanche  : 
They  fed  her  theories,  in  and  out  of  place, 
Maintaining  that  with  equal  husbandry 
The  woman  were  an  equal  to  the  man." 

Acting  under  such  influences,  she  had  begged  from  her 
father  a  certain  summer-palace  on  the  northern  frontier  of  his 
dominions,  and  established  there  "an  University  for  maidens," 
from  which  all  men,  even  her  own  brothers,  were  rigorously, 
shut  out.  Gama  is  ready  to  give  the  Prince  letters  to  his 
daughter,  though  he  rates  his  chance  with  her  '  almost  at 
naked  nothing.'  Our  hero  takes  the  letters,  and  sets  out 
again  with  his  associates  :  but  on  coming  near  the  summer- 
palace,  "  a  thought  flash' d  thro'  him  which  he  cloth'd  in  act." 
Having  "  tweezered  otit  what  slender  blossom  lived  on  lip  or 
cheek  of  manhood,"  the  three  friends  array  themselves  in 
female  gear,  and  ask  admission  to  the  College.  They  are 
brought  before  the  Princess  Ida,  whose  appearance  surpasses 
the  expectation,  and  confirms  the  passion  of  her  lover.  She 
notices  the  tallness  of  the  new-comers,  but  without  suspecting 
their  disguise  :  and  at  their  own  request  enrols  them  pupils  of 
the  Lady  Psyche;  a  pretty  widow,  described  as  "  a  quick 
brunette,  well -moulded,  falcon -eyed,  and  on  the  hither  side, 
or  so  she  looked,  of  twenty  summers."  This  attractive  per- 


302 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 


son  is  "  lady  of  three  castles  in  the  land,"  and  withal  sister  to 
Florian  the  Prince's  friend.  Ushered  into  her  lecture-room, 
Cyril  falls  in  love  at  once  with  the  lady  and  her  three  castles, 
his  regard  being  pretty  equally  distributed  between  them. 
After  her  lecture,  a  report  of  which  is  given,  she  meets  her 
new  pupils,  and  soon  recognizes  her  brother  with  his  two 
companions.  She  tells  them  of  the  inscription  on  the  gate, 
"let  no  man  enter  in  on  pain  of  death,"  which,  approaching 
after  nightfall,  they  had  failed  of  reading  ;  but  she  readily 
agrees  to  keep  their  secret,  on  condition  that  they  take  the 
earliest  opportunity  to  quit  the  place.  This  conversation  is 
accidentally  overheard  by  Melissa,  Lady  Blanche's  lovely 
daughter,  whose  charms  make  an  instant  impression  on  the 
heart  of  Florian.  Melissa  promises  silence,  but  her  mother, 
artful  and  suspicious,  divines  her  secret,  and  succeeds  in 
worming  out  a  confirmation.  Cyril,  however,  by  playing  on 
the  tutoress's  wounded  vanity,  and  holding  out  bright  hopes 
to  her  ambition,  bribes  her  to  concealment.  Yet  our  adven 
turers  do  not  long  preserve  their  incognito.  They  attend  the 
Princess  on  an  excursion  "  to  take  .the  dip  of  certain  strata  to 
the  North  :  "  after  which  at  evening  the  party  is  gathered  for 
rest  and  refreshment  in  a  superb  pavilion.  Here,  after  two  or 
three  songs, — 

"  Did  Cyril,  with  whom  the  bcll-mouth'd  flask  had  wrought, 
Or  master'd  by  the  sense  of  sport,  begin 
To  troll  a  careless,  careless  tavern-catch 
Of  Moll  and  Meg,  and  strange  experiences 
Unmeet  for  ladies." 

Angry  at  his  freedom,  the  Prince  cries,  "forbear,  Sir,"  and 
smites  him  on  the  breast.  The  ladies  on  the  instant  take  to 
flight :  but  coming  to  a  stream  which  crossed  their  way,  the 
Princess  blind  with  rage  misses  the  plank,  and  is  swept  down 
by  the  current  towards  a  cataract  not  far  below.  Apprized  of 
her  peril  by  the  shrieks  of  her  attendants,  our  hero,  as  in 
duty  bound,  plunges  in,  and  with  some  trouble  bears  her 
safely  to  the  shore.  The  Princess  returns  to  her  palace,  ascer 
tains  the  treachery  of  her  assistants,  and  summons  them  into 
her  presence.  Lady  Psyche,  it  appears,  has  fled  away  with 


TENNYSON1  S  PRINCESS.  303 

Cyril  ;  and  Lady  Blanche,  in  spite  of  a  fluent  and  ingenious 
vindication  of  her  conduct,  is  sternly  banished  from  the  place. 
Finally  the  Prince  is  brought  up  for  judgment,  and  though 
the  bloody  penalty  denounced  against  all  masculine  intruders 
is  remitted,  he  is  ignominiously  thrust  out  of  doors. 

Wandering  forth  he  finds  himself  presently  in  his  father's 
camp,  where  his  appearance  in  female  garb— 

"  drench' d  with  ooze,  and  torn  with  briers, 
More  crumpled  than  a  poppy  from  the  sheath, 
And  all  one  rag,  disprinced  from  head  to  heel," 

provokes  ungovernable  laughter.  The  old  king,  it  seems, 
learning  the  situation  of  his  son,  and  fearing  for  his  life,  had 
crossed  the  frontier  and  was  now  beleaguering  the  summer- 
palace.  King  Gama  too,  who  having  just  found  out  his 
daughter's  sanguinary  edict,  was  coming  "  all  in  haste  to 
hinder  wrong,"  has  fallen  into  the  enemy's  hands  and  is  held 
a  hostage  for  the  safety  of  the  Prince.  But  soon  the  rumor 
comes  that  Gama's  sons,  Prince  Arac  and  his  two  stout  broth 
ers,  are  approaching  with  a  powerful  army.  A  consultation 
is  held  and  peace  resolved  on  :  only  the  Prince's  claim  to  his 
betrothed  shall  be  decided  by  a  grand  tournament  between 
fifty  champions  on  either  side.  To  this  arrangement  Ida 
gives  consent,  and  appears  on  the  battlements  of  the  palace  a 
spectator  of  the  conflict.  Our  hero's  party  is  utterly  worsted  : 
he  himself  and  his  two  friends  bear  down  two  of  the  royal 
brothers  on  the  opposite  side,  but  are  all  three  vanquished  by 
the  prowess  of  the  resistless  Arac.  The  struggle  over,  Ida 
comes  forth  with  her  ladies  to  give  her  wounded  champions, 
"  brethren  of  her  blood  and  cause/the  tender  ministries  of 
female  hands  and  hospitality."  As  she  passes  by  the  spot 
where  the  Prince  is  lying,  his  aged  father  mourning  over  him 
as  dead,  she  is  struck  with  sudden  sorrow  and  remorse  : — 

"  Her  iron  will  was  broken  in  her  mind, 
Her  noble  heart  was  molten  in  her  breast." 

Placing  her  finger  on  the  Prince's  brow,  she  soon  announces 
that  he  lives,  and  offers  to  tend  him  with  her  own  wounded 
brethren.  A  striking  colloquy  ensues,  which  ends  in  the  ar- 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

rangement  that  all  the  wounded,  friend  and  foe  without  dis 
tinction,  shall  be  taken  to  the  palace,  and  there  receive  the 
treatment  which  their  hurts  require.  Meantime  the  ordinary 
college  business  is  suspended,  the  inmates  for  the  most  part 
returning  to  their  homes. 

The  result  is  easily  foreseen.  Cyril  and  Florian  soon  re 
cover  from  their  wounds  and  prosper  in  their  loves.  •  The 
fate  of  the  Prince  is  long  doubtful  :— 

"  And  twilight  dawn'd  ;   and'morn  by  morn  the  lark 
Shot  up  and  shrill'd  in  flickering  gyres,  but  I 
Lay  silent  in  the  muffled  cage  of  life  ; 
And  twilight  gloom'd  ;  and  broader  grown  the  bowers 
Drew  the  great  night  into  themselves,  and  Heaven 
Star  after  star  arose  and  fell,  but  I 
Lay  sunder'd  from  the  moving  universe, 
Nor  knew  what  eye  was  on  me  nor  the  hand 
That  nursed  me,  more  than  infants  in  their  sleep." 

All  this  time  Ida  is  unremitting  in  her  attendance  : — 

"  And  still  she  fear'd  that  I  should  lose  my  mind  ; 
And  often  she  believed  that  I  should  die  : 
Till  out  of  long  frustration  of  her  care 
And  pensive  tendance  in  the  all-weary  noons, 
And  watches  in  the  dead,  the  dark,  when  clocks 
Throbb'd  thunder  thro'  the  palace  floors,  or  called 
On  flying  time  from  all  their  silver  tongues — 
And  out  of  memories  of  her  kindlier  days, 
And  sidelong  glances  at  my  father's  grief, 
And  at  the  happy  lovers  heart  in  heart — 
And  out  of  hauntings  of  my  spoken  love, 
And  lonely  listenings  to  my  mutter'd  dream, 
And  often  feeling  of  the  helpless  hands, 
And  wordless  breedings  on  the  wasted  cheek — 
From  all  a  closer  interest  flourished  up 
Tenderness  touch  by  touch,  and  last,  to  these, 
Love." 

The  long  contest  between  life  and  death  is  at  length  decided 
in  favor  of  life.  The  Prince  returns  to  consciousness  ;  dis 
covers  the  new-born  affection  of  his  mistress ;  converses 
eloquently  with  her  on  the  true  position,  office,  destiny  of 
woman,  mixing  old-world  wisdom  with  high  anticipations  of  a 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS.  305 

brighter  future  :  when  the  curtain  drops,  and  a  brief  "  Epi 
logue,"  carrying  out  the  action  of  the  "  Prologue,"  brings  the 
work  to  a  conclusion. 

A  large  part  of  the  critical  objections  urged  against  "The 
Princess"  relate  to  the  person  of  the  heroine.  Her  character 
is  charged  with  inconsistency  :  "a  virago  in  the  progress  of 
the  work,  she  appears  at  the  close  in  all  the  modesty  and  soft 
ness  of  her  sex  :  the  reader  is  offended  at  the  outset  by  her 
severity,  by  the  self-will  and  obstinacy  which  she  shows  ;  and 
afterwards,  when  the  metamorphosis  occurs,  when  the  lioness 
becomes  the  lamb,  he  feels  the  incrcdulus  odi,  he  cannot  trust 
the  transformation."  This  criticism  is  not  wholly  without 
foundation  :  yet  we  feel  that  it  mistakes  the  earlier  phase  of 
Ida's  character.  The  delineation  of  the  poet  shows  us  a  being 
strong  in  will,  with  great  energy  and  great  persistency,  but 
not  destitute  of  gentleness  or  tenderness.  A  generous  feeling 
forms  the  very  basis  of  her  faults.  It  is  not  pride  and  ambi 
tion  which  urge  her  to  engage  in  her  great  enterprise  for  ele 
vating  woman  :  it  is  the  view  of  wrong,  of  the  weaker  suffer 
ing  from  the  injustice  of  the  stronger,  of  female  degradation 
and  oppression  —  evils  which  the  poet  in  his  reconciling  con 
clusion  acknowledges  as  real  :  "  these  were  the  rough  ways  of 
the  world  till  now" — evils  which  we  must  all  deplore  in  the 
past,  whatever  we  may  think  as  to  the  proper  remedy  for  the 
future.  Personally  she  is  not  affected  by  these  evils  ;  her 
station  places  her  above  their  reach  :  but,  full  of  generous 
-sympathy,  she  dedicates  her  life  to  the  redress  of  injuries  of 
which  others  are  the  victims.  Surely  there  is  nothing  very 
vixenish  in  this.  She  has  indeed  her  theory  as  to  the  way  in 
which  her  objects  are  to  be  effected  :  a  method  of  her  own,  a 
grand  catholicon  for  social  maladies.  It  is  her  college,  on 
which  she  has  "  toiled  and  wrought  and  thought ;  "  with  which 
she  has  become  identified  in  all  her  feelings,  hopes,  and  wishes. 
This  scheme  of  hers  she  comes  to  regard  with  the  natural 
fondness  of  a  projector  :  and  now  doubtless  pride  of  opinion, 
ambitious  longings  for  the  triumph  of  her  principles  and  plans, 
appear  among  the  motives  of  her  conduct.  Still,  the  noble 
object  which  at  first  attracted  her  is  never  absent  from  her 
mind  :  a  high  enthusiasm  flashes  through  mists  of  vanity  and 
20 


3o6  TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

selfishness,  which  dim  but  cannot  hide  its  splendor.  If  she  is 
severe  against  all  that  menaces  her  darling  scheme,  it  is  not 
alone  because  the  scheme  is  hers,  but  because  it  involves  to 
her  view  a  millennium  of  happiness.  The  faults  of  the  Princess 
illustrate,  as  they  were  certainly  intended  to  illustrate,  the 
havoc  which  devotion  to  a  theory  may  work  in  the  best  nature. 
The  reader  is  made  to  feel  that  they  are  not  essential  elements 
of  the  character,  but  excrescences  upon  it,  the  noxious  growth 
of  a  mistaken  system.  The  poet  exposes  them  with  con 
scientious  love  of  truth  ;  but  at  the  same  time  shows  us  here 
and  there  many  traits  of  natural  amiable  feeling,  which  pre 
pare  us  for  his  heroine's  last  development,  and  make  us  ready 
to  believe  the  Prince,  when  he  says— 

"  Ere  seen  I  loved,  and  loved  thee  seen,  and  saw 
Thee  woman  thro'  the  crust  of  iron  moods 
That  mask'd  thee  from  men's  reverence  up,  and  forced 
Sweet  love  on  pranks  of  saucy  boyhood." 

Thus,  for  instance,  speaking  of  the  Prince,  she  says — 

"  To  nurse  a  blind  ideal  like  a  girl, 
Methinks  he  seems  no  better  than  a  girl  : 
As  girls  were  once,  as  we  ourselves  have  been  : 
We  had  our  dreams  j  perhaps  he  mixt  ivitti  them  .•" 

and  shortly  after, — 

"  Yet  will  we  say  for  children,  would  they  grew 
Like  field  flowers  everywhere  !  we  like  them  well — 
Children — that  men  may  pluck  them  from  our  hearts, 
Kill  us  with  pity,  break  us  with  ourselves — 
O — children — there  is  nothing  upon  earth 
More  miserable  than  she  that  has  a  son 
And  sees  him  err." 

When  the  Lady  Psyche  is  forced  from  college  precincts, 
her  infant  daughter  is  retained  : — 

"  For  this  lost  lamb  (she  pointed  to  the  child) 
Our  mind  is  changed  :  we  assume  it  to  ourselves." 

After  the  tournament,  when  urged  by  friend  and  foe  to  restore 
the  child,  she  thus  addresses  it: — 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS.  307 

"  Pretty  bud  ! 

Lily  of  the  vale  !  half  opened  bell  of  the- woods  ! 
Sole  comfort  of  my  dark  hour,  when  a  world 
Of  traitorous  friend  and  broken  system  made 
No  purple  in  the  distance,  mystery, 
Pledge  of  a  love  not  to  b,e  mine,  farewell ; 
These  men  are  hard  upon  us  as  of  old ; 
.  We  two  must  part :  and  yet  how  fain  was  I 
To  dream  thy  cause  embraced  in  mine,  to  think 
I  might  be  something  to  thee,  when  I  felt 
Thy  waxen  warmth  about  my  milkless  breast 
In  the  dead  prime." 

Even  in  her  more  heroic  strain,  the  attentive  reader  will 
discern  a  something  not  altogether  natural,  a  nerving  of  the 
heart  to  heavy  toils  and  painful  sacrifices,  an  inward  struggle 
to  stifle  softer  feelings  because  their  indulgence  seems  incon 
sistent  with  the  claims  of  solemn  duty,  She  is  apparently 
forcing  herself  on  to  a  hardness  alien  from  her  real  character, 
but  regarded  as  essential  to  her  arduous  enterprise.  Hence 
when  circumstances  come  to  modify  her  views,  and  a  new 
passion  springs  up  in  her  heart,  and  the  fanaticism,  noble  but 
mistaken,  of  a  narrow  system  passes  away,  the  reader  is  not 
surprised  to  witness  the  full  blossoming  of  a  tenderness,  the 
germs  of  which  he  had  before  seen,  chilled  but  not  destroyed 
by  the  frosts  of  theory  and  prejudice.  The  irrepressible 
passion  of  her  lover,  and  the  hearty  fondness  of  her  stout 
brother  Arac  have  made  him  feel  from  the  first  that  there 
must  be  something  truly  lovable  about  her.  This  feeling  of 
his  gains  confirmation  from  her  generous  sacrifices  for  the 
good  of  others,  from  the  honest  enthusiasm  which  animates 
her  most  unwomanly  words  and  actions  ;  it  is  strengthened 
into  certainty  by  the  beautiful  and  natural  expressions  which 
from  time  to  time  force  their  way  out  against  all  opposition  ; 
and  it  has  its  full  realization  in  the  final  purified  and  softened 
development  of  her  character. 

Some  are  displeased  with  the  pedantry,  as  they  call  it,  of 
the  Princess,  and  vote  her  an  intolerable  blue.  It  is  no 
wonder,  certainly,  that  one  shut  out  from  the  ordinary 
objects  of  attention  and  pursuit  among  her  sex  should  seek 
to  fill  their  place  by  science  :  especially  as  a  severer  mental 


308  TENNYSON1  S  PRINCESS. 

discipline  is  an  important  feature  in  her  favorite  scheme. 
That  it  should  figure  in  her  conversation  follows  from  the 
same  conditions.  What  has  she  left  to  talk  of  but  her  studies 
and  her  plans  ?  Her  principal  theme,  however,  is  not  science, 
but  social  regeneration  :  she  is  not  a  pedant,  but  a  reformer. 
She  is  eloquent  on  woman's  rights,  their  violation  in  the  past, 
their  vindication  in  the  future  :  and  if  when  discoursing  on 
these  topics  she  falls  into  the  style  of  a  lecturer  or  haranguer, 
it  is  only  a  natural  result  of  her  theory,  and  well  illustrates 
the  inherent  opposition  of  that  theory  to  true  womanly 
decorum.  Yet  here,  it  must  be  owned,  we  find  a  serious 
difficulty,  belonging  to  the  subject  of  the  poem  and  insepa 
rable  from  it,  one  which  the  poet  himself  must  have  felt  most 
keenly  :  how  to  engage  his  heroine  in  this  Amazonian  move 
ment  without  unsexing  her,  without  making  her  unfemininc, 
and  so  breaking"  the  charm  with  which  she  was  to  be  invested. 

t> 

His  success  in  the  attempt,  if  not  complete,  seems  to  be  as 
nearly  so  as  the  nature  of  the  case  admits.  It  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  prime  mover  in  the  business  is  the  Lady 
Blanche,  an  artful,  selfish,  and  ambitious  dowager,  who  re 
ceives  charge  of  the  girl  Princess  after  her  mother's  death,  and 
by  her  talents  and  acquirements  has  gained  an  ascendency 
over  her  pupil's  mind.  With  her  the  college  scheme 
originates,  designed  of  course  solely  for  her  own  aggrandize 
ment.  Working  on  Ida's  lively  sympathies  and  taking 
advantage  of  her  inexperience,  she  enlists  her  in  the  under 
taking,  which  once  undertaken  her  own  force  of  character 
and  sanguine  temper,  and  withal  her  natural  pride,  will  not 
allow  her  to  abandon,  will  not  allow  her  even  to  weigh  in  the 
balance  of  an  impartial  judgment. 

The  two  collaborators  of  the  Princess  serve  admirably  as 
foils,  to  show  the  superiority  of  their  head.  Lady  Blanche 
is  hollow  and  heartless,  plausible  in  appearances,  false  in 
professions,  governed  in  all  by  sordid  motives.  Lady  Psyche 
on  the  other  hand  is  swayed  by  personal  attachment  ;  it  is 
her  affection  for  the  Princess  which  has  led  her  to  embark  in 
the  grand  enterprise  :  she  has  indeed  some  understanding  of 
its  objects  and  a  certain  sympathy  for  them  ;  but  there  is  no 
basis  of  principle,  no  disposition  to  suffer  martyrdom  for  the 


TEA'NYSON'S  PRINCESS. 


309 


cause  in  which  she  is  engaged,  though  for  the  person  of  her 
mistress  she  would  willingly  endure  it.  The  Princess  Ida 
alone  has  a  genuine  enthusiasm  founded  on  a  firm  conviction  ; 
she  is  sustained  through  difficulty  and  danger  by  an  unshaken 
faith  in  the  goodness  of  her  cause  ;  she  believes  strongly  and 
therefore  acts  strongly  ;  she  rises  before  us  in  the  dignity  of  a 
superior  nature,  great  in  its  excellences,  great  even  in  its 
errors. 

The  poem  abounds  in  trios  ;  the  most  distinctly  drawn,  and 
altogether  the  most  striking,  being  the  lady-trio  just  de 
scribed.  r  But  we  have  again  the  three  brothers  of  the 
Princess,  the  invincible  Arac  and  the  doughty  twins — 
"  fortisque  Gyas  fortisque  Cloanthus" — undistinguished  in 
character,  and  serving  only  as  opposites  in  tournament  to  the 
Prince  and  his  companions.  Here  in  this  suitor-trio,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  find  more  marked  diversity. 

"  That  morning  in  the  presence-room  I  stood 
With  Cyril  and  with  Florian,  my  two  friends  : 
The  first  a  gentleman  of  broken  means 
(Mis  father's  fault),  but  given  to  starts  and  bursts 
Of  revel ;   and  the  last,  my  other  heart, 
My  shadow,  my  half-self,  for  still  \ve  moved 
Together,  kin  as  horse's  ear  and  eye." 

Cyril  is  a  light  sketchy  character,  but  drawn  with  great 
spirit.  His  unfailing  gayety,  his  careless  humor,  the  mask  of 
recklessness  which  he  contrives  to  throw  over  a  nature  honest 
and  honorable  at  bottom,  remind  us  strongly  of  the  dashing 
heroes  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  As  for  Florian,  he  is  a 
mere  double  to  the  Prince,  convenient  in  the  conduct  of  the 
plot,  but  without  any  striking  specialty  of  mind  and  char 
acter. 

The  Prince  himself  has  failed  of  satisfying  critics.  His 
character  has  been  censured  as  at  once  meagre  and  incon 
sistent.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  urged  that  there  is  nothing 
distinctive  about  him,  no  individual  traits,  no  personal 
peculiarities  :  he  is  a  mere  stock  hero  of  romance.  But  we 
should  be  careful  lest  we  exact  too  much.  What  more  can 
justly  be  demanded  of  a  young  Prince  than  that  he  be  frank 
and  generous  and  faithful,  brave  and  gentle,  beautiful  and 


3 1  o  TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

loving !  Do  not  these  qualities  suffice  to  constitute  a  noble 
character  ?  do  they  not  afford  fair  augury  for  a  good  life  and 
glorious  actions  ?  "  True,  but  then  they  are  too  common  : 
we  find  them  in  every  novel  :  in  a  great  poem  we  have  the 
right  to  claim  and  to  expect  something  different."  But  this 
wide  diffusion  of  the  character  only  proves  that  it  awakens 
universal  interest,  and  is  therefore  well  suited  to  the  purposes 
of  romantic  fiction.  Such  a  hero,  it  should  seem,  forms  in 
general  the  most  convenient  centre  for  the  various  figures 
and  actions  of  the  piece.  Nor  is  it  right  to  quarrel  with  the 
character  for  its  ideal  perfection,  to  claim  that  for  the  sake  of 
variety  it  should  be  made  crafty,  irascible,  or  garrulous  ;  as 
well  might  you  quarrel  with  the  symmetry  of  an  Apollo 
Belvedere,  and  insist  on  giving  it  a  more  marked  appearance 
by  the  truncation  of  the  nose  or  the  elongation  of  the 
chin. 

But  the  Prince,  again,  equally  with  his  betrothed,  stands 
accused  of  inconsistency.  "  He  starts,  a  boy,  a  mere  love 
sick  boy,  who  steals  disguised  and  undetected  into  a  female 
college,  who  finds  no  difficulty  in  passing  himself  off  for  a 
woman  :  yet  anon  we  see  him  tilting  in  the  lists,  a  champion 
of  no  mean  note  :  soon,  recovering  from  protracted  sickness, 
he  appears  mature  in  mind,  a  poet-sage,  uttering  maxims  of 
profoundest  wisdom."  As  regards  the  question  whether  it 
is  physically  possible  for  one  who  could  successfully  disguise 
himself  in  woman's  weeds  to  bear  his  part  with  honor  in  the 
deadly  conflict  of  the  tourney,  we  shall  not  presume  to  de 
cide.  We  are  content  with  referring  to  the  martial  heroines 
of  Tasso  and  Ariosto,  whose  exploits  seem  to  prove  that, 
whether  true  or  not  in  actual  life,  in  the  imaginary  world  of 
the  romancer  such  a  thing  is  not  impossible.  And  in  the 
same  imaginary  world,  the  act  of  donning  such  disguise 
assumed  for  no  base  end  may  be  looked  upon  as  little  worse 
than  what  our  Prince  himself  has  called  it,  "a  prank  of  saucy 
boyhood."  The  effervescence  of  a  frolic  humor,  it  does  not  of 
necessity  imply  a  want  of  manly  energy  or  honorable  feeling. 
It  is  not  inconsistent  even  with  that  noble  peroration  ;  in 
which,  however,  let  it  be  observed,  the  quality  most  promi 
nent  is  not  hoary-headed  wisdom,  but  truth  of  natural  feeling. 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS.  3 1 1 

The  Prince's  ideal  of  woman  is  founded  on  the  example  of  a 
mother,  "who  was  mild  as  any  saint,  and  almost  canonized 
by  all  she  knew,  so  gracious  was  her  tact  and  tenderness  ;  " 
and  whatever  such  a  model  could  not  furnish  would  be 
readily  supplied  by  the  instincts  and  the  experience  of  a 
loving  heart.  Thus  inspired  and  guided  may  our  hero, 
without  incurring  the  charge  of  wisdom  beyond  his  .years, 
break  out  into  a  strain  of  poetry,  which. we  cannot  deny 
ourselves  the  pleasure  of  quoting  : — 

"  For  woman  is  not  undevelopt  man, 
But  diverse  :   could  we  make  her  as  the  man, 
Sweet  love  were  slain,  whose  dearest  bond  is  this, 
Not  like  to  like,  but  like  in  difference  ; 
Yet  in  the  long  years  liker  must  they  grow  : 
The  man  be  more  of  woman,  she  of  man  ; 
He  gain  in  sweetness  and  in  moral  height, 
Nor  lose  the  wrestling  thews  that  throw  the  world  ;' 
She  mental  breadth,  nor  fail  in  childward  care  : 
More  as  the  double-natured  poet  each  : 
Till  at  the  last  she  set  herself  to  man, 
Like  perfect  music  unto  noble  words." 

— "  And  this  proud  watchword  rest 
Of  equal ;  seeing  either  sex  alone 
Is  half  itself,  and  in  true  marriage  lies 
Nor  equal,  nor  unequal :  each  fulfils 
Defect  in  each,  and  always  thought  in  thought, 
Purpose  in  purpose,  will  in  will,  they  grow, 
The  single  pure  and  perfect  animal, 
The  two-cell'd  heart,  beating  with  one  full  stroke 
Life." 

But  the  objections  take  a  wider  range.  Much  is  said  of  the 
improbability — \vorse  than  that,  the  impossibility  and  sheer 
absurdity  of  the  story,  which,  as  no  one  can  suppose  it  true, 
or  make  it  real  to  his  mind,  is  declared  unfit  to  awaken  inte 
rest  and  call  forth  sympathy.  We  cannot  deny  our  skepti 
cism  as  to  the  occurrences  narrated  in  "  The  Princess  :  "  we  do 
not  find  them  in  the  history  of  past  or  present,  nor  do  we  look 
for  them  in  the  developments  of  the  future.  And  doubtless, 
were  we  closely  questioned,  we  should  be  forced  to  make  a 
similar  admission  as  to  the  Orlando  Furioso  and  the  Midsum 
mer  Night's  Dream,  poems  which  are  nevertheless  acknowl- 


312 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 


edged  to  possess  high  poetic  excellence.  The  truth  is,  that 
the  probability  required  in  such  a  work  is  not  absolute  but 
relative  ;  it  is  a  probability  founded  in  the  assumptions  of  the 
author.  Is  the  work  adequately  motived?  does  it  contain  the 
power  necessary  for  its  own  propulsion  ?  do  the  forces  given 
at  the  outset,  with  those  afterwards  brought  in,  harmonize  in 
all  their  operation  ?  will  their  united  action  account  suffici 
ently  well  for  the  effects  described  ?  We  have  a  right  indeed 
to  claim,  as  this  statement  obviously  implies,  that  the  forces 
shall  be  generally  intelligible,  such  as  we  can  understand  and 
feel  the  meaning  of:  they  must  have  a  true  relation  to  our 
common  nature  ;  they  must  be  consistent  with  the  universal 
principles  that  govern  human  conduct.  But  the  particular 
conditions  under  which  they  are  to  act  are  left  to  the  fancy 
or  the  judgment  of  the  poet.  If  you  would  form  a  critical 
estimate  of  "  The  Princess,"  assume  the  external  conditions  of 
the  work.  Do  not  concern  yourself  about  the  situation  of  the 
northern  and  southern  kingdoms:  take  them  for  granted. 
Do  not  be  surprised  that  woman's  rights  have  come  to  be 
acknowledged  even  in  princely  halls  :  assume  the  fact  of  such 
a  recognition.  Do  not  vex  your  mind  with  the  manifold  ob 
stacles  which  hinder  the  organization  of  a  female  college  : 
leave  them  to  the  Princess  Ida,  and  suppose  them  happily  sur 
mounted.  But  inquire  whether,  on  the  given  conditions,  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Princess,  her  ardor  in  the  prosecution  of  a 
great  moral  work,  her  attachment  to  a  system  of  agencies  re 
garded  as  the  necessary  means  of  its  accomplishment — whether 
these  motives  operating  on  a  nature  such  as  hers  are  not  suf 
ficient  to  account  for  her  conduct.  Let  the  same  method  be 
extended  to  all  the  persons  and  actions  of  the  poem.  We 
are  persuaded  that  the  result  of  such  a  criticism  would  be  to 
weaken  very  much  the  charges  of  improbability,  so  often 
loosely  brought  against  our  author's  plot. 

It  is  said,  however,  that  we  cannot  thus  accept  the  external 
conditions  of  the  work,  because  they  are  inconsistent  in  them 
selves  ;  presenting  an  aggregate  of  incongruities,  a  cabinet  of 
curiosities  filled  with  ill-assorted  specimens  from  every  time 
and  country,  a  confused  mass  of  forms,  principles,  ideas  such 
as  never  have  been  and  never  can  be  united  in  the  actual 


TENNYSON1  S  PRINCESS.  3  1 3 

world.     This  view  of  the  poem  is  strongly   stated   by  an  able 
critic  in  the  North  British  Review  for  May,  1848  :  — 

"  '  The  Princess  ;  a  Medley,'  upon  the  first  reading  has  a  very  curious 
effect.  It  is  so  thoroughly  'a  medley,'  its  heterogeneousness  is  so  com 
plete,  that  we  wonder  how  any  mind  should  have  been  able  to  escape  the 
apparently  inevitable  continuity  with  which  feelings  and  ideas  suggest 
themselves.  Tragedy,  comedy,  love,  satire,  the  old  and  the  new,  mo 
dern  conventionalisms  and  outrageous  fancies,  all  contrarieties  come 
together,  and  at  first  appear  to  clash." 

And  again,  after  a  synopsis  of  the  story  : — 

"  There  are  numerous  other  instances  and  characters,  all  wonderfully 
elaborated,  which  we  have  not  noticed  because  they  have  no  connection 
whatever  with  the  main  plot  :  but,  had  we  done  so,  we  should  still  have 
fallen  far  short  of  giving  the  reader  a  notion  of  the  utter  want  of  interest, 
unity,  and  purpose  in  this  production,  considered  merely  as  a  narrative 
poem  ;  and  of  its  miserable  weakness  and  want  of  integrity,  if  regarded,  as 
some  regard  it,  as  a  satire  upon  learned  women.  Now  by  regarding  it  as 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  and  attributing  to  it  some  significance  of 
which  the  incidents  and  characters  are  merely  symbolical  expressions, 
we  at  once  do  away  with  an  overwhelming  amount  of  difficulty  and  con 
tradiction,  and  are  enabled  to  reconcile  its  composition  with  the  quality 
of  Mr.  Tennyson's  genius." 

If  this  were  so,  the  work  might  perhaps  pass  for  a  tolerable 
allegory  or  enigma  ;  but  it  would  be  a  wretched  poem.  It 
could  advance  no  claim  to  be  regarded  as  a  work  of  art :  for 
art  can  never  be  indifferent  to  outward  form  ;  it  requires  not 
merely  a  unity  of  idea,  but  a  certain  order,  proportion,  and 
harmony  in  the  symbols  by  which  ideas  are  represented. 
The  fantastic  painting  in  the  Ars  Poetica  would  still  be  a  mis 
erable  picture,  though  you  should  give  it  symbolical  signifi 
cance,  and  show  that  the  intellectual  objects  denoted  by  the  hu 
man  head,  the  horse's  neck,  and  the  various  plumage  stand  in 
the  most  natural  relation  to  each  other.  On  the  other  hand,  let 
men,  birds,  and  horses  be  grouped  together  in  a  painting 
which  has  consistency  and  beauty,  and  we  recognize  the  merit 
of  the  picture  without  much  reference  to  its  spiritual  meaning. 
A  certain  degree  of  coherence  is  essential  even  to  the  allegory  : 
we  should  have  been  displeased  with  Bunyan,  if  his  Pilgrim 
had  appeared  as  a  monkey  or  a  mouse,  in  order  to  adumbrate 
some  moral  transformation. 


3 1 4  TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

There  is  no  difficulty  in  admitting  that  our  author  in  his 
present  work  intended  to  portray  the  passing  time  in  many  of 
its  aspects.  This  design  is  clearly  indicated  in  his  Prologue, 
and  it  accords  well  with  the  views  expressed  in  numerous  pas 
sages  of  his  earlier  poems.  He  is  by  no  means  one  of  those 
poets  who  live  wholly  in  the  ideal  world.  He  is  alive  to  all 
that  is  living  and  stirring  around  him  ;  watches  with  eager  in 
terest  the  great  progress  of  thought  and  knowledge  and  action  ; 
and  stamps  upon  his  works  the  fire-new  impress  of  the  current 
day.  He  not  merely  appreciates  the  present,  but  delights  in 
it,  as  the  grand  result  of  all  past  ages,  rich  in  the  spoils  of 
time,  in  its  own  acquisitions,  and  still  more  in  "  the  promise 
that  it  closes."  He  does  not  reclaim  in  impotent  vexation 
against  a  progress  which  he  cannot  check  :  but  welcomes  in 
every  hour  "a.  bringer  of  new  things;  "  acknowledges  that 
"  meet  is  it  changes  should  control  our  being,  lest  we  rot  in 
ease  ;  "  holds  it  "  better  men  should  perish  one  by  one,  than 
that  earth  should  stand  at  gaze  like  Joshua's  moon  in  Ajalon  ;  " 
and  kindling  with  enthusiasm  cries,  "  Forward,  forward  let  us 
range  :  let  the  nations  spin  forever  down  the  ringing  grooves 
of  change."  That  the  works  of  such  a  poet  should  present 
manifold  reflections  of  the  present  age  can  occasion  no  sur 
prise.  Many  passages  of  "The  Princess"  are  direct  expres 
sions  of  ideas,  principles,  and  feelings  peculiar  to  our  own 
time.  In  many  instances  he  has  made  use  of  representative 
forms  :  that  is,  he  has  taken  some  particular  phenomenon,  and 
made  it  stand  for  a  large  class  of  similar  phenomena  to  which 
it  is  related.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  his  "  university 
for  maidpns,"  which  may  be  viewed  as  representing  a  multi 
tude  of  rampant  radicalisms.  All  this,  however,  is  very  differ 
ent  from  that  continuous  allegory,  that  perpetual  succession  of 
metaphors,  embracing  every  detail  of  the  poem,  which  our 
Scottish  contemporary  assumes,  though  he  candidly  admits 
his  inability  to  interpret  the  greater  part  of  them  : — 

"  Let  us  frankly  confess  that  an  unusually  careful  study  of  this  poem 
has  not  enabled  us  to  discover  any  such  distinct  connection  between  the 
greater  portion  of  its  details,  and  what  we  conceive  to  be  the  central 
thought;  upon  which,  if  the  poem  be  a  truly  artistical  work,  they  must 
every  one  of  them  depend  for  their  primary  meaning  and  value.  Very 


TENNYSON? S  PRINCESS.  3  j  5 

many  are  the  thoughts,  allusions,  traits  of  character  and  incidents,  the 
true  meaning  of  which  we  seem  to  perceive  fully  :  very  many  appear  to 
us  to  possess  only  some  half-perceived  capacity  of  application  to  the  cen 
tral  thought  :  but  very  many  more  have  proved  too  enigmatical  for  our 
patience  or  our  powers." 

We  hardly  know  why  the  critic  should  have  given  up  these 
latter  points.  A  writer  intent  on  this  sort  of  interpretation, 
and  gifted  with  a  tolerable  share  of  ingenuity,  can  have  little 
difficulty  in  educing  meaning  out  of  any  text ;  he  can  even  find 
for  the  same  text  as  many  meanings  as  Swedenborgians  at 
tribute  to  the  words  of  Scripture.  But  the  whole  attempt 
strikes  us  as  a  profitless  expenditure  of  thought,  by  which  no 
thing  like  certainty  could  ever  be  attained.  It  is  a  wander 
ing  through  labyrinthine  forests  with  an  ignis  fatuus  for  your 
only  guide.  The  work  which  cannot  be  justified  except  by 
such  a  guess-work  process  may  be  pronounced,  in  the  lan 
guage  of  debating  societies,  "  wholly  .unjustifiable."  Davits 
sum,  11011  CEdipus.  We  shall  wait  till  the  author  publishes  a 
key  to  his  own  riddle-book,  before  we  meddle  with  its  puzzles  ; 
before  we  concede  that  it  was  designed  by  the  author  and  is  to 
be  treated  by  the  critic  only  as  a  puzzle. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  poem  shows  in  different  parts 
a  difference  of  "tone  and  coloring.  The  author  himself  ad 
mits  the  fact  in  his  "  Epilogue  :  " 

"  Here  closed  our  compound  story,  which  at  first 
Perhaps  but  meant  to  banter  little  maids 
With  mock-heroics  and  with  parody  : 
But  slipt  in  some  strange  way,  crost  with  burlesque, 
From  mock  to  earnest,  even  into  tones 
Of  tragic,  and  with  less  and  less  of  jest." 

This  mixing  up  of  grave  and  gay,  serious  and  mirthful,  tra 
gedy  and  comedy,  has  given  some  offence,  and  in  the  judg 
ment  of  the  ingenious  critic  quoted  above  can  only  be  de 
fended  on  the  ground  of  allegorical  significance.  Would  he  say 
the  same  of  the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  or  Hamlet  Prince 
of  Denmark  ?  The  example  of  our  great  dramatist  has  shown 
that  the  close  association  of  the  tragic  and  the  comic,  which 
so  constantly  presents  itself  in  real  life,  is  not  inadmissible  in 


3 1 6  TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

the  creations  of  art  ;  that  they  may  aid  each  other  as  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  a  picture  ;  that  the  lighter  portions  are 
useful  to  relieve  the  eye,  while  by  contrast  they  throw  the 
dark  into  still  deeper  gloom.  And  whether  it  be  correct  ap 
preciation  or  misjudging  fondness  we  know  not ;  but  in  this 
poem  of  Tennyson's,  it  appears  to  us  that  the  two  elements, 
so  far  from  neutralizing  one  another,  are  blended  into  harmony, 
and  receive  each  a  heightened  beauty  from  their  union. 

After  all  that  may  be  said  about  the  absurdity  and  inco 
herence  of  the  story,  it  certainly  produces  the  impression  of 
reality  in  a  degree  which,  when  the  nature  of  the  incidents  is 
considered,  must  be  thought  truly  wonderful.  So  vividly  and 
clearly  does  the  poet  delineate  the  creatures  of  his  fancy  that 
we  cannot  help  viewing  them  as  actual  existences.  We  find 
ourselves  sympathizing  with  the  Prince,  and  wishing  him  suc 
cess  in  his  arduous  suit.  We  feel  the  rush  of  breathless  ex 
pectation  in  the  hot  inclic  of  the  tourney.  We  wait  anxiously 
the  turn  of  fate  beside  the  sick-bed  of  the  wounded  lover. 
We  give  him  our  heartiest  congratulations  on  his  eventual 
recovery  and  success.  It  is  only  when  we  set  ourselves  to 
criticizing  that  we  are  struck  with  the  improbability  of  that 
which  moved  us,  and  become  ashamed  of  our  former  feelings. 
In  no  former  production  has  the  author  suc<*ecded  in  giving 
so  much  the  air  of  reality  to  the  objects  of  his  imagination; 
nor  has  he  shown  in  any  one  so  much  delicacy  and  distinct 
ness  in  the  delineation  of  character. 

The  poetry  of  our  day  has  been  almost  exclusively  lyrical. 
Moving  hotly  and  hurriedly  in  the  career  of  politics,  or  swal 
lowed  up  in  business,  or  prosecuting  science  with  a  zeal  and 
success  never  before  paralleled,  we  have  found  no  time  for 
lengthened  poems.  Only  now  and  then  could  we  snatch  a 
moment  for  a  brief  utterance  of  feelings  which  belong  to 
human  nature,  and  can  never  be  utterly  lost  even  in  the  mad 
dest  vortices  of  life.  As  for  great  constructive  poems,  vast 
systems  of  narrative,  meditation,  and  description,  built  up  in 
the  deeps  of  an  ideal  world,  they  have  well-nigh  disappeared. 
In  America,  where  the  influences  that  oppose  their  construc 
tion  are  the  strongest,  we  have  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  our  poets 
have  to  a  singular  extent  been  song-writers  ;  while  the  occa- 


TENNYSON1  S  PRINCESS.  3 1 7 

sional  attempts  which  we  have  seen  in  epic  and  dramatic  com 
position  have  been  generally  unsuccessful.  Yet  this  has  been 
almost  equally  the  case  in  England.  What  long  poem  of  any 
note  has  appeared  there  since  the  "  Excursion  ?  "  and  what  is 
the  Excursion  itself  but  a  long  lyric  ? — no  narrative  of  action  ; 
no  development  of  character  ;  no  plot  or  story  ;  no  complica 
tion  of  incidents  ;  no  catastrophe  or  denouement ;  no  unity,  but 
that  of  a  rosary  ;  a  series  of  lyrical  exercises,  for  the  most  part 
didactic,  strung  loosely  on  the  very  slightest  thread  of  story. 
Byron  wrote  narrative  poems  of  some  length  ;  but  his  genius 
was  essentially  lyrical.  The  plots  of  his  Corsair,  Lara,  Giaour, 
etc.,  will  not  stand  the  lightest  touch  of  criticism  ;  barren  and 
confused,  they  serve  only  as  openings  for  fine  description  or 
eloquent  declamation.  Nor  does  Don  Juan  in  the  aimless 
ramblings  of  its  hero  show  anything  more  of  constructive 
power.  In  Southey's  epics,  if  we  may  use  a  name  which  the 
poet  himself  rejected  with  contempt,  we  find  our  best  recent 
specimens  of  epic  art.  Yet  we  know  not  how  the  critics  who 
blame  "The  Princess"  for  its  inconsequences  and  improba 
bilities  could  defend  the  grotesque  wonders  of  "  Thalaba 
the  Destroyer"  or  the  "  Curse  of  Kehama."  Is  it  said  that 
these  are  to  be  tolerated  as  forms  of  actual  belief,  importa 
tions  from  Pantheons  of  mythologies  currently  received  among 
our  fellow-men  ?  But  how  does  that  lessen  the  incredulity 
with  which  we  look  upon  such  wild  arid  monstrous  fictions  ? 
Or  would  the  college  of  the  Princess  Ida  seem  to  us  one  whit 
more  probable,  could  we  find  some  Hottentot  or  Eskimo  who 
held  it  for  undoubted  verity  ?  And  again,  the  inconsistency 
arising  from  a  mixture  of  incompatible  ideas,  which  is  urged 
against  Tennyson,  may  be  charged  with  equal  justice  on  the 
elder  poet,  who  has  by  no  means  treated  the  religions  of 
India  and  Arabia  in  the  spirit  of  their  devotees,  but  has  al 
lowed  the  notions  and  feelings  of  the  Christian  to  appear 
among  the  symbols  of  the  Mohammedan  and  the  Brahman. 
It  may  be  thought,  however,  that  in  naming  his  work  "a 
Medley"  the  poet  has  given  up  the  whole  point ;  that  he  has 
decided  the  question,  and  decided  it  against  himself.  But  the 
name  indicates  no  more  than  the  widely  diverse  character  of 
the  materials  employed  in  the  building  of  his  work  ;  it  can- 


3 1 8  TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

not  be  justly  construed  as  a  confession  that  no  care  was  used 
in  the  selection,  and  no  art  in  the  arrangement.  And  if  a 
writer  modestly  apply  a  slighting  name  to  his  own  production, 
we  should  not  press  the  circumstance  against  him.  It  is  not 
to  be  supposed  that  an  artist  such  as  Mr.  Tennyson  has 
shown  himself  to  be  would  inflict  a  mere  medley  on  the  pub 
lic.  He  would  feel  it  beneath  himself  to  waste  the  treasures 
of  his  fancy  and  the  classic  riches  of  his  diction  on  a  heap  of 
unconnected,  aimless,  and  incongruous  absurdities.  Nor 
would  he  consent  to  forfeit  a  well-earned  reputation  by  bring 
ing  such  a  work,  were  he  even  capable  of  writing  it,  before 
the  bar  of  intelligent  criticism.  We  may  rest  assured  that 
there  is  some  point  of  view  from  which  the  poem  will  appear 
as  other  than  a  medley  ;  from  which  we  shall  be  able,  not 
perhaps  to  justify  the  composition  in  all  particulars,  for  the 
highest  genius  must  still  fall  short  of  absolute  perfection  ; 
but  to  comprehend  at  least  how  it  was  possible  for  a  man  of 
genius  ts  be  the  author  of  such  a  composition. 

Mr.  Tennyson  has  evidently  taken  extraordinary  pains  with 
the  construction  of  his  verse.  He  seems  to  have  felt  that  a 
single  measure  running  through  a  long  poem  must  of  neces 
sity  become  monotonous  and  wearisome,  unless  great  care  be 
taken  to  diversify  its  rhythm.  He  may  have  thought  also 
that  a  narrative  piece,  where  the  poet  must  rely  less  upon  the 
thought  and  more  upon  the  form  than  in  other  species  of 
poetical  composition,  requires  peculiarly  the  aid  of  metrical 
resources.  Certain  it  is  that,  iii  affluence  of  means  and  in 
variety  of  effects,  the  blank  verse  of  "The  Princess"  surpasses 
all  its  author's  previous  attempts  in  the  same  kind  of  measure  ; 
nor  would  it  be  easy  to  find  its  equal  in  these  respects  since 
the  time  of  Milton.  To  the  versification  of  the  Paradise  Lost, 
the  greatest  exemplar  of  versification  in  the  English  language, 
Mr.  Tennyson,  it  is  clear,  has  given  no  little  attention  ;  and 
from  this  poem,  and  from  the  older  English  poetry  in  general, 
he  has  adopted  many  rhythmical  and  metrical  expedients — 
liberties  or  licenses,  as  they  are  sometimes  called — which  the 
too  finical  taste  of  later  times,  and  the  undue  passion  for  uni 
formity,  have  generally  discarded.  Among  these  we  mention 
the  so  called  elision — more  truly,  the  blending  of  a  final  vowel 


TENNYSOfN'S  PRINCESS.  3  1 9 

with  the  vowel  initial  of  a  following  word  into  a  single  syllable, 
or  at  least  what  passes  for  such  in  the  rhythm.  Thus  we 
have — 

"  That  made  the  old  warrior  from  his  ivied  nook 
Glow  like  a  sunbeam." 

"  The  violet  varies  from  the  lily  as  far 
As  oak  from  elm." 

"O  Swallow,  Swallow,  if\  could  follow,  and  light 
Upon  her  lattice." 

So,  too,  where  the  second  word  begins  with  a  weak  conso 
nant  easily  elided  in  pronunciation  : — 

"  Fly  to  her,  and  pipe  and  woo  her,  and  make  her  mine." 
"  You  must  not  slay  him  :  he  risked  his  life  for  ours." 

The  same  fusion  occurs  often  in  a  single  word,  and  not  only 
in  such  forms  as  lovelier,  sapience,  etc.,  where  all  our  poets 
have  employed  it,  but  in  many  instances  where  the  last  two 
centuries  have  renounced  its  use.  Thus,  in  the  following 
lines,  the  words  seeing,  crying,  highest  go  for  monosyllables 
in  the  rhythm  :— 

"And  Cyril  seeing  it,  push'd  against  the  Prince." 
11  Some  crying  there  was  an  army  in  the  land." 
"And  highest  among  the  statues,  statue-like." 

The  combinations  in  the,  of  the,  etc.,  are  often  treated  as 
filling  but  one  rhythmical  place  : — 

11  Better  have  died,  and  spilt  our  bones  in  the  flood." 
"  Poets,  whose  thoughts  enrich  the  blood  of  the  world." 
"  When  the  man  wants  weight,  the  woman  takes  it  up." 

In  many  instances  a  short  syllable  is  neglected — that  is,  does 
not  count  as  forming  by  itself  a  place  in  the  metre.  In  the 
following  quotation,  the  words  enemy,  general,  soluble  are 
treated  as  dissyllables  : — 

"  Now  she  lightens  scorn 

At  the  enemy  of  her  plan,  but  then  would  hate 
The  general  foe.     More  soluble  is  the  knot." 


320  TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

Especially  does  this  occur  where  a  short  final  syllable  is  fol 
lowed  by  a  word  beginning  with  a  vowel  : — 

"  A  palace  in  our  own  land,  where  you  shall  reign." 
"  A  tent  of  satin,  elaborately  wrought." 

We  could  distinguish  other  cases,  in  which  a  reader  unfa 
miliar  with  the  earlier  English  rhythms  might  be  offended  by 
supernumerary  syllables  :  but  to  enter  upon  long  details  would 
perhaps  be  more  tedious  than  profitable.  In  none  of  these 
instances,  if  we  may  judge  of  Mr.  Tennyson's  pronunciation 
from  his  way  of  writing,  would  he  omit  a  syllable  in  reading  : 
nor  does  the  rhythm  of  the  verse  (let  metrical  doctors,  like 
Mr.  Guest,  say  what  they  please  about  it)  require  of  us  the 
use  of  any  such  expedient.  Yet,  as  the  same  word  or  combi 
nation  may  receive  in  different  places  a  different  metrical  ar 
rangement,  the  reader,  unless  he  proceeds  with  unusual  fore 
sight,  will  sometimes  be  obliged  to  take  a  new  start  and  try 
it  over  again.  This  difficulty  might  be  obviated  by  the  use 
of  some  appropriate  notation  ;  the  elisions  and  apostrophes  of 
the  old  books  are  of  course  objectionable,  if  nothing  is  to  be 
elided  ;  but  it  is  much  to  be  wished  that  some  method  might 
be  substituted  for  them,  to  make  the  proper  mode  of  reading 
obvious  at  first  sight. 

The  poem  presents  us  with  many  passages  in  which  the 
rhythm  is  very  studiously  adapted  to  the  sense.  In  some  of 
these  perhaps  the  thing  is  overdone  ;  but  in  most  the  effect 
is  admirable.  We  instance  the  following  fine  exhibition  of 
"  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war:" 

"  They  made  a  halt ; 

The  horses  yell'd  ;   they  clashed  their  arms  ;   the  drums 
Beat ;  merrily  blowing  shrill'd  the  martial  fife  ; 
And  in  the  blast  and  bray  of  the  long  horn 
And  serpent-throated  bugle,  undulated 
The  banner ;   anon  to  meet  us  lightly  pranced 
Three  Captains  out." 

The   overwhelming   onset   of  Prince   Arac    is"  described    in 
verses  not  unfit  for  the  exploits  of  divine  Achilles  : — 


TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS.  3  2 1 

"  But  that  large-moulded  man 
Made  at  me  thro'  the  press,  and  staggering  back 
With  stroke  on  stroke  the  horse  and  horseman,  came 
As  comes  a  pillar  of  electric  cloud, 
Flaying  off  the  roofs  and  sucking  up  the  drains, 
And  shadowing  down  the  champaign  till  it  strikes 
On  a  wood,  and  takes,  and  breaks,  and  cracks,  and  splits, 
And  twists  the  grain  with  such  a  roar  that  the  earth 
Reels,  and  the  herdsmen  cry  ;  for  everything 
Gave  way  before  him." 

A  waterfall  is  thus  represented  in  words  which  address 
themselves  at  once  to  mind  and  sense  : — 

"  And  up  we  came  to  where  the  river  sloped 
To  plunge  in  cataract,  shattering  on  black  blocks, 
A  breadth  of  thunder." 

In  the  following  passage,  describing  the  rescue  of  the  Prin 
cess,  the  verse  is  managed  with  much  art  : — 

"  There  whirled  her  white  robe  like  a  blossom' d  branch 
^  Rapt  to  the  horrible  fall  :  a  glance  I  gave, 

No  more  ;  but  woman-vested  as  I  was, 
Plunged  ;  and  the  flood  drew  :  yet  I  caught  her  j  then 
Oaring  one  arm,  and  bearing  in  my  left 
The  weight  of  all  the  hopes  of  half  the  world, 
.  Strove  to  bujfet  to  land  in  vain.'1'1 

The  rhythm  of  the  last  line  (which  occurs  quite  frequently 
in  the  Paradise  Lost)  is  admirably  adapted  to  express  la 
borious  and  unsuccessful  effort.  Not  unlike  it  is  the  follow 
ing  :— 

"  While  now  her  breast, 

Beaten  with  some  great  passion  at  her  heart, 
Palpitated,  her  hand  shook,  and  we  heard 
In  the  dead  hush  the  papers  that  she  held 
Rustle." 

We  are  tempted  to  assume  the  same  movement  in  another 
place  : — 

«  "  they  to  and  fro 

Fluctuated  as  flowers  in  storm,  some  red,  some  pale" — 
21 


322  TENNYSON1  S  PRINCESS. 

and  to  suppose  that  the  poet,  intentionally  or  inadvertently, 
extended  the  line  beyond  the  regular  standard.  It  can  be 
read  indeed  as  a  verse  of  five  accents,  but  not  without  tak 
ing  from  the  aptness  of  the  rhythm.  Breathlessness  is  thus 
described  : — 

11  And  on  a  sudden  ran  in 
Among  its,  all  out  of  or  eat  Ji,  as  pursued, 
A  woman-post  in  flying  raiment." 

In  this  instance,  however,  the  poet  seems -to  have  been  more 
ingenious  than  successful  :  the  verse  breaks  down  under  his 
menage  ;  the  line,  as  naturally  read,  has  but  four  accents,  and 
it  is  not  without  difficulty  that  the  reader  comes  to  under 
stand  the  metrical  intention  of  the  writer. 

In  his  use  of  language  Mr.  Tennyson  has  shown  himself  in 
this  work  uncommonly  adventurous  ;  but  he  has  in  general 
adventured  with  a  happy  boldness.  He  abounds  in  striking 
novelties,  in  words,  meanings,  and  constructions  seldom  or 
never  found  elsewhere  ;  and  thus,  it  must  be  owned,  pro 
duces  on  the  reader's  mind  a  first  impression  that  his  style  is 
more  or  less  artificial  and  affected.  On  a  second  reading  this 
impression  for  the  most  part  disappears.  Many  phrases 
which  at  first  seem  quaint  and  odd  are  soon  perceived  to 
have  a  propriety  and  a  beauty  which  justify  their  strangeness. 
We  accept  the  language  as  the  appropriate  vesture  of  the 
thought,  and  feel  that  no  other  vesture  would  become  it  half 
so  well.  One  thing  certainly  is  true  :  the  words,  be  they 
good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  are  never  the  unmeaning  substitutes 
for  thought :  they  are  always  richly  freighted  with  sense  and 
sentiment.  Mr.  Tennyson  is  not  one  of  those  copious  and 
fluent  writers  who  can  turn  off  verses  by  the  ream  ;  he  has  no 
patent  machine  for  the  manufacture  of  poetry.  His  compo 
sitions  are  widely  different  from  the  voluminous  and  flimsy 
job  work  of  literary  artisans  ;  widely  different,  too,  from  the 
productions  of  many  real  artists,  who  are  wont  to  use  the  best 
materials,  but  weave  them  hastily  in  thin  and  ill-compacted 
fabrics.  Our  recent  poetry  even  of  the  better  sort  has  been 
too  generally  written  currente  calaino  •  in  many  cases  it 
hardly  mounts  above  the  reach  of  a  ready-witted  improvisa- 


TENNYSON1  S  PRINCESS.  323 

tore.  You  read  it,  possibly,  with  interest  and  pleasure  ;  but 
it  neither  makes  a  definite  impression  on  the  mind,  nor  gains 
an  abiding  home  in  the  memory.  You  may  remember  the 
subject  of  the  work  and  something  of  its  plot  or  course  of 
thought ;  but  words  and  images  and  sentences  are  gone  ; 
quotation  is  impossible.  Seldom,  too  seldom,  do  you  meet 
with  expressions  singularly  felicitous,  or  lines  which  realize 
Coleridge's  ideal,  where  every  change  conceivable  would  be 
a  change  for  the  worse  ;  or  passages  which  seem  like  the 
spontaneous  crystallization  of  great  sentiments  and  principles  ; 
or  utterances  which  might  make  one  think  he  heard  the  Muse 
herself  pronouncing  oracles  for  the  instruction  and  delight  of 
every  coming  age.  It  is  a  singular  circumstance  that  Cole 
ridge,  who  was  so  much  of  an  improviser  in  his  prose,  should 
have  been,  almost  alone  among  his  contemporaries,  so  spar 
ing  and  elaborate  in  his  poetry.  In  Tennyson  we  see  the 
same  frugality  of  verse,  the  same  studious  care  and  conscien 
tious  toil  in  execution.  He  does  not  spread  himself  out  upon 
paper,  but  brings  his  whole  material  within  the  narrowest 
compass.  Far  from  dispersing  the  rays  of  his  genius  in  di 
vergent  lines,  he  gathers  them  in  luminous  centres,  which 
shine  clear  and  bright  like  the  stars.  To  one  who  writes  in 
this  way,  each  word  becomes  a  matter  of  importance,  a  sub 
ject  for  careful  thought  and  nice  selection.  He  cannot  take 
whatever  comes  first  or  lies  nearest ;  he  must  ransack  the 
treasury  of  language,  to  find  that  which  will  most  aptly, 
tersely,  forcibly  express  his  meaning.  Sometimes  it  may  be 
an  old-world  word,  which  men  have  latterly  forgotten,  but 
may  well  bring  back  to  memory  ;  sometimes  a  word  from 
the  living  mintage  of  the  poet's  own  brain,  carrying  its  warrant 
in  its  use  and  justly  claiming  place  among  the  currency  of 
older  dates  ;  sometimes  a  colloquialism  that  deserves  to  be 
ennobled ;  sometimes  an  expressive  idiom  coming  from 
abroad,  and  naturalized  with  full  rights  of  native  citizenship. 
A  style  thus  diligently  selected  and  compacted  can  hardly 
fail  to  have  a  certain  quaintness  ;  and  some  such  quality  may 
have  been  apparent,  even  from  the  first,  in  the  writings  of 
Spenser  and  Jonson  and  Milton.  The  time  has  been  when 
it  was  regarded  as  the  very  beau  ideal  of  style  that  it  should 


324  TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

resemble  fashionable  conversation.  Fortunately,  the  feeling 
now-a-days  is  very  different.  We  claim  for  conversation  a 
freedom  greater  than  it  once  enjoyed,  and  for  writing  a  free 
dom  greater  than  we  yield  to  conversation.  We  allow  the 
writer  to  consult  his  own  taste  as  to  the  colors  and  the 
fashions  irr  which  he  shall  present  himself  before  the  public. 
We  do  not  regard  even  language  itself  as  a  thing  inflexible 
and  immutable,  which  all  are  to  accept  and  use  exactly  alike. 
We  acknowledge  in  the  writer,  especially  in  the  man  of  genius, 
a  certain  power  over  language  ;  a  right  of  origination,  not  to 
make  himself  unintelligible,  but  to  make  himself  more  in 
telligible  ;  a  right  to  share  actively  in  that  progress  which, 
spite  of  all  conservative  resistance,  is  the  inevitable  condition 
of  a  living  language,  and  the  cessation  of  which  proves  a 
language  to  be  really  dead,  unfit  for  the  living  use  of  living 
men. 


XVII. 

THE  NUMBER  SEVEN.* 
1858. 

IT  is  well  known   that  men  of  different  times  and   nations 
have  associated  with  particular  numbers  the  idea  of  a  pe 
culiar  significance  and  value.      It  is  also  well  known  that,  of 
all  numbers,  there  is  no  one  which  has  exercised  in  this  way 
a  wider  influence,   no  one  which  has  commanded  in  a  higher 
degree  the  esteem  and  reverence  of  mankind,  than  the  num 
ber  Seven.     The  mystic  preeminence  of  this  sacred  number 
is  as  ancient   as   it  is   venerable.     It  belongs   to   the   simple 
wisdom  of  a  primitive  age.      It   had  its  native  home  in   the 
East,  near  the  springs  of  light  and  of  day.     True,  we  find   it 
also  in   later   times,  and   upon  occidental  ground,  pervading 
the  mind    and   literature   of  modern   Europe.      But  we  must 
remember  that  an  Oriental  book,  an  Asiatic  book,  the  Sacred 
Scripture   of  the   Hebrew,    has  leavened — may   we    not   add 
that    it    has   sevened — the    mind    and    literature    of    modern 
Europe.      But  before  this  influence  began,  before  a  new  re 
ligion    coming    into    Europe    from    the  East    brought    with 
it  the  Oriental  feeling  for  the    Seven,  the    case    was  widely 
different.        Among  the  ancient   Greeks   and    Romans,   but 
little  prominence  upon   the  whole   is  given   to  this   number. 
Let  us  look  at  the  first  great  monuments  of  western  literature, 
the  poems  of  Homer.      Here  we  find   a  number   of  sevens. 
Seven    talents    are  more  than  once  bestowed   as  a  present. 
Seven    tripods,   seven  women,  and  seven   towns   are  among 
the    gifts    by    which    Agamemnon    seeks    to    propitiate    the 
enraged  Achilles.     Then  there  are  seven  ships  of  Philoctetes, 
seven  brothers  of  Andromache,  seven  sons  of  Polyctor,  seven 
gates  of  the  Boeotian  Thebes,  seven  layers  of  ox-hide  in  the 

*  Von  Hammer-Purgstall,   Ueber  die  Zahl   Sieben.     (Wiener  Jahrbiicher  der 
Literatur.      1848.     CXXII.  182-225.     CXXIIT.    1—54.     CXXIV.    1—105.) 


326  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

impenetrable  shield  of  Ajax,  seven  herds  of  cattle  belonging 
to  the  sun-god  Helios,  seven  roods  of  ground  covered  by  the 
fallen  war-god  Ares.  Seven  years  the  murderer  ^Egisthus 
reigns  upon  the  throne  of  Agamemnon  ;  seven  years  Ulysses 
is  kept  a  prisoner  by  the  fondness  of  the  nymph  Calypso  ; 
seven  years  in  his  romancing  story  to  Eumaeus  he  professes 
to  have  spent  in  Egypt.  In  four  instances  in  the  Odyssey, 
some  action  is  described  as  continuing  for  six  days  and 
terminating1  on  the  seventh  in  some  critical  event  — a  curious 

o 

circumstance,  in  which  we  might  almost  be  tempted  to  trace 
either  a  dawning  or  a  vanishing  of  the  week.  This  is  the  list 
of  Homeric  sevens,  nearly  complete  :  it  may  appear  some 
what  long  ;  but  there  arc  quite  as  many  tens  in  Homer,  and 
of  twelves  almost  twice  as  many.  In  the  Greek  mythology 
— and  it  is  the  mythology  of  a  nation  that  most  faithfully 
reflects  its  early  thinking  and  feeling — the  Seven  is  quite  rare, 
and  is  nearly  confined  to  the  worship  of  Apollo  ;  the  Twelve 
again  is  greatly  more  important  as  a  mythological  number. 
From  Greek  philosophy,  however,  the  Seven  has  received  a 
more  respectful  attention.  The  Pythagoreans,  who  in  general 
laid  much  stress  upon  the  mystic  properties  of  number,  had  a 
special  regard  for  the  seven.  Thus  Philolaus,  the  contempo 
rary  of  Socrates,  and  the  first  to  set  forth,  in  writing,  an 
extended  exposition  of  Pythagorean  doctrine,  says  concerning 
God,  the  author  and  governor  of  all  things,  that  "  he  is  with 
out  variation,  ever  like  himself  and  like  no  other,  even  as  the 
number  seven."  But  it  will  be  recollected  that  Pythagoras,' 
according  to  the  general  tradition,  had  travelled  in  the  East, 
and  was  supposed  to  have  drawn  from  thence,  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent,  the  elements  of  his  system.  All  have  xheard  of 
the  Seven  Sages,  or  Wise  Men  of  Greece  ;  men  who,  about 
six  centuries  before  Christ,  were  highly  distinguished  among 
their  contemporaries  for  wisdom  and  experience  ;  of  whom 
the  most  celebrated  were  the  Milesian  Thales  and  the 
Athenian  Solon,  It  may  have  been  a  philosopher  who  first 
conceived  the  idea  of  selecting  out  just  seven  such  men  to 
form  the  group.  It  is  at  any  rate  a  philosopher— Plato, 
himself  also  a  traveller  in  the  East — who  first  gives  us  the 
seven  names,  selected  out  and  grouped  together.  But  the 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN.  327 

Seven  in  this  case  does  not  seem  to  have  taken  very  strong 
hold  of  the  Greek  mind,  or  to  have  possessed  inviolable 
sanctity  ;  for  Dicsearchus  substitutes  ten  sages  for  the  seven, 
and  Hermippus  enumerates  seventeen.  Again,  the  idea  of 
Seven  Wonders  of  the  World,  which  we  find  among  the 
Greeks,  appears  to  have  originated  in  the  East,  with  the 
Egyptian  Greeks  of  Alexandria.  One  of  the  seven  wonders 
belongs  to  Alexandria  itself,  the  light-house  in  its  bay.  A 
second  is  also  Egyptian,  the  pyramids.  Of  the  remaining 
five,  only  one  is  European,  the  statue  of  Zeus  at  Olympia  ; 
while  four  are  Asiatic — the  Ephcsian  temple  of  Diana,  the 
Mausoleum  of  Artemisia,  the  Colossus  at  Rhodes,  and  the 
hanging  gardens  of  Babylon.  The  conquests  of  the  Mace 
donians,  and  after  them  the  Romans  in  -the  East,  the  wide 
dispersion  of  the  Jews,  and,  following  that,  the  still  wider 
diffusion  of  Christianity,  all  had  the  effect  of  acquainting  the 
European  mind  more  and  more  with  Oriental  ideas.  And 
hence  it  comes  that,  in  the  centuries  after  Christ,  we  find  a 
large  .number  even  of  heathen  writers  who  render  homage  to 
the  sacredness  and  dignity  of  the  Seven.  We  will  not  dwell 
upon  them  here  ;  but  will  rather  turn  to  lands  where  a  vener 
ation  for  the  Seven  appears  unborrowed  and  original.  We 
will  look  first  to  the  far  East,  to  the  banks  of  the  Indus  and 
the  Ganges,  to  the  votaries  of  the  Brahman  religion. 

According  to  the  conceptions  of  the  Indians,  Mount  Meru, 
the  sacred  mountain  of  the  gods,  is  surrounded  by  the  seven 
rocks  called  Cakravarta,  rising  in  the  mystic  regions  of  the 
atmosphere.  Indra,  the  great  lord  of  the  sky,  governs  by 
seven  vice- kings  the  seven  regions  of  the  heaven.  Agni, 
the-  god  of  fire,  is  thus  addressed  in  one  of  the  sacred  books  : 
"  Seven  are  thy  fuels,  seven  thy  tongues,  seven  thy  holy 
sages,  seven  thy  favorite  haunts,  in  seven  ways  thy  worship 
pers  adore  thee,  seven  are  thy  sources  ;  be  graciously  content 
with  thy  clarified  butter  !  "  The  sun  has  his  seven  rays, 
which  are  themselves  described  as  suns,  and  pour  down  their 
sevenfold  heat  on  the  torrid  land  of  the  Hindu.  The  earth  - 
itself  has  its  seven  Dvipas,  seven  islands  encompassed  by  as 
many  seas — the  seas  of  milk,  sugar,  honey,  salt,  salt  water, 
sour  water,  and  butter.  Over  it  blow  the  winds,  Maruts, 


328  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

seven  times"  seVerr in  number.  The  earth  is  renewed  every 
seven  thousand  years,  or,  as  others  hold,  every  seven  times 
seven  thousand.  There  are  seven  Apsaras  or  nymphs  of 
Paradise  ;  seven  Saktis,  or  incarnated  attributes  of  the  divin 
ity  ;  seven  Rishis,  or  holy  sages  ;  seven  Munis,  or  holy 
hermits.  These  last  are  not  unknown  to  Christendom  :  at 
least,  the  name  of  holy  recluses  might  be  given  with  propriety 
to  our  old  friends,  the  seven  sleepers  of  Ephesus.  All  have 
heard  the  story  :  how,  in  the  great  persecution  under  Decius, 
seven  Christian  youths  fled  for  refuge  to  a  mountain  near  the 
city  of  Ephesus,  and  there  hid  themselves  in  a  cave.  They 
slept  during  the  night  without  disturbance,  and  woke,  as  they 
supposed,  on  the  following  morning.  Venturing  out,  after 
some  time,  to  obtain  provisions,  they  attracted  notice  by 
their  uncouth  garb  and  appearance.  Having  purchased  what 
they  wanted,  they  offered  in  payment  some  strange-looking 
antique  coins.  Suspicion  was  aroused,  and  they  were 
brought  before  a  magistrate.  They  then  told  their  story, 
from  which  it  appeared  that  the  supposed  night's  sleep  had 
lasted  well-nigh  two  centuries.  The  bishop  Martin  was 
called  in,  and  even  the  emperor  Theodosius  II.,  brought  by 
express  from  Constantinople  ;  in  whose  presence  they  re 
peated  their  narrative,  and  then,  praising  God,  with  the  halo 
of  sanctity  visibly  encircling  them,  gave  up  the  ghost.  The 
reader  is  not  required  to  believe  the  story  ;  Baronius,  the 
famous  church  historian,  though  he  swallows  a  wagon-load 
of  marvels,  is  squeamish  as  to  this  one.  It  is,  indeed,  almost 
as  much  a  Mohammedan  as  a  Christian  tradition  ;  the  Koran 
is  all  but  the  earliest  authority  we  can  quote  for  it.  Even  at 
this  day  the  Ottoman  navy  is  under  the  especial  guardianship 
of  the  Holy  Seven  Sleepers ;  and  in  sleepiness,  if  not  in 
holiness,  does  credit  to  its  sainted  patrons.  But  again,  the 
Brahman  system  has  its  seven  paradises,  and  seven  hells  ; 
these  re-appear  in  the  religion  of  the  Moslim,  who,  however, 
adds  another  paradise,  on  the  ground  that  God's  mercy  ex 
ceeds  his  vengeance.  Nor  are  they  unknown  to  Christendom. 
The  celebrated  Pico  clella  Mirandola  left  among  his  manu 
script  remains  a  treatise  on  the  seven  heavens  and  the  seven 
earths,  and  another  on  the  seven  places  of  hell.  In  a  German 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 


poem    of    the    middle     ages    ( Wr'^r^ttffiJ^i  *f&*m\d    the 
couplet — 

Das  ist  die  Hell  mit  irem  Slund, 

Darin  wol  siben  Kammer  greulich  sind  erzund. 

That  is  hell  with  its  pit  of  woe, 

Where  in  fearful  flame  seven  chambers  glow. 

It  would  be  easy  to  extend  this  enumeration  of  Indian  sevens. 
But  the  specimens  already  given  will  suffice  ;  especially  as  we 
are  not  in  condition  to  determine  how  far  they  belong  to  the 
earlier  forms  of  the  Hindu  religion,  or  what  proportion  they 
bear  to  other  mythological  numbers  in  the  same  system.  Let 
us  now  turn  westward  to  Central  Asia,  to  the  countries  which 
formed  the  heart  and  strength  of  the  ancient  Persian  empire. 
Here  in  ancient  times  the  prevailing  religion  was  that  of  Zo 
roaster,  which  owns  the  Zend-Avesta  for  its  Bible,  and  is  pro 
fessed  at  the  present  day  only  by  the  scanty  remnants  of  the 
Parsees.  The  two  great  divinities  of  this  religion  are  Ormuzd 
(Ahura-mazda),  the  divinity  of  light  and  good,  on  the  one 
hand  ;  and,  on  the  other,  Ahriman  (Angra-mainyus),  the  di 
vinity  of  darkness  and  evil.  Ormuzd  is  surrounded  by  his  at 
tendant  spirits,  the  seven  Amshaspands,  who  may  be  compared 
with  the  seven  throne-angels,  that,  according  to  the  book  of 
Tobit,  go  in  and  out  before  the  glory  of  the  Holy  One.  Ahri 
man  in  like  manner  has  his  court,  composed  of  seven  arch-devs 
or  demons,  whom,  as  regards  the  number,  we  might  compare 
with  the  seven  that  haunted  Mary  of  Magdala,  or  with  the 
seven  more  wicked  than  himself,  whom  the  evil  spirit,  after 
his  restless  wandering  through  the  desert,  took  back  with  him 
to  his  former  habitation,  which  he  found  ready,  swept,  and 
garnished— "  and  the  last  end  of  that  man  was  worse  than 
the  first." 

The  modern  literature  of  Persia  abounds  in  sevens.  Native 
dictionaries  enumerate  above  a  hundred  septenaries,  groups  of 
objects  designated  as  the  seven  so-and-so.  We  will  not  under 
take  to  name  them.  We  could  not  say,  what  it  would  be  most 
interesting  to  know  about  them,  how  far  they  have  sprung  out 
of  the  spontaneous  feeling  and  invention  of  the  Persian,  or  how 
far  they  are  due  to  the  Arabian  influence,,  itself  saturated  with 


330  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

sevens,  which  entered  Persia  with  the  religion  of  Mohammed 
in  the  seventh  century  of  our  era. 

But  let  us  proceed  to  ground  which  has  for  us  the  double  in 
terest  of  more  familiar  acquaintance  and  more  sacred  associa 
tions.  The  preeminent  importance  of  the  number  seven 
throughout  the  Bible  is  seen  in  the  extraordinary  frequency 
of  its  occurrence.  It  is  found  in  the  Old  and  New  Testaments 
not  less  than  three  hundred  and  eighty-three  times.  This  count 
includes  the  ordinal  scvcntJi,  as  well  as  the  compound  seven 
fold  •  but  does  not  include  the  higher  numbers  which  contain 
a  seven,  such  as  seventeen,  twenty-seven,  seventy,  seven  hun 
dred,  and  the  like.  If,  now,  we  count  the  sixes  in  the  same 
way,  we  find  them  to  be  one  hundred  and  eighteen.  The 
eights  counted  in  the  same  way  are  fifty-eight.  The  sixes  and 
the  eights  taken  together  amount  only  to  one  hundred  and 
seventy-six,  or  less  than  one-half  of  the  sevens. 

The  preeminence  of  the  Seven  is  a  fact  which  meets  us  at  the 
threshold  of  the  Bible,  in  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  or  in  what 
should  be  the  first  chapter.  It  is  well  known  that  an  unfortu 
nate  blunder  in  the  division  has  deprived  the  opening  chapter 
of  three  verses  which  justly  belong  to  it.  The  real  break  is  af 
ter  the  third  verse  of  chapter  ii.  :  for  the  fourth  verse,  so  far 
from  being  connected  with  those  before  it,  is  the  commence 
ment  of  a  distinct  narrative,  composed  probably  at  a  different 
time,  and  indeed,  according  to  the  opinion  of  many  good  Bibli 
cal  scholars,  composed  by  a  different  writer.  Now  the  first  ac- 
.count  of  the  creation,  as  we  find  it  in  the  opening  chapter 
with  the  first  three  verses  of  the  second,  represents  to  us  a 
sevenfold  process,  which  occupies  the  first  week  of  world-his 
tory,  and  is  made  up  of  six  successive  acts  of  creation  dis 
tributed  through  six  successive  days,  and  terminated  like  the 
Hebrew  week  by  a  day  of  rest.  It  is  indeed  conceivable  that 
in  this  account  the  sevenfold  arrangement  may  belong  rather 
to  the  form  and  drapery  of  the  narrative  than  to  its  veritable 
substance  :  and  in  fact  we  find  no  hint  of  it  in  the  fourth, 
fifth.,  sixth,  and  seventh  verses  of  the  second  chapter,  which 
also  contain  a  separate  account  of  the  creation.  Even  thus  it 
would  remain  true  that  a  sevenfold  arrangement  was  adopted 
for  the  more  elaborate  narrative  which  was  to  embody  the 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN.  33! 

great  truth  of  an  original  divine  creation  ;  and  this  circum 
stance  alone  would  be  highly  significant  ;  it  would  demon 
strate  the  preponderant  value  given  by  the  Hebrew  mind  to 
the  week  and  to  its  number  the  Seven.  Or,  again,  we  may 
suppose  with  others  that  an  actual  week  was  spent  in  this 
way  ;  that,  after  an  immeasurable  past  of  geological  mutations, 
of  trilobites,  ichthyosauri,  and  batrachians,  when  a  new  and 
nobler  resident  was  to  be  introduced  upon  our  planet,  then 
its  existing  arrangements  were  thrown  into  temporary  confu 
sion,  and  a  week  was  passed  in  fitting  and  furnishing  it  anew 
for  the  habitation  of  man.  Such  a  view  might  perhaps  be  re 
garded  as  still  more  honorable  to  the  Seven.  Or,  yet 
again,  with  others,  we  might  swell  days  till  they  assume 
the  dimension  of  ages— seven  ages,  each  with  its  own  sep 
arate  record,  written  on  the  tablet  of  the  earth,  in  characters 
which  science  has  been  able  to  decipher,  and  has  found  to  be 
identical  with  the  words  of  the  Mosaic  description.  This 
view,  it  is  clear,  gives  the  highest  exaltation  to  the  Seven. 
For  it  makes  geology  a  Seven,  and  so  the  mightiest  of  all 
sevens.  It  offers  the  crowning  attestation  of  science  to  the 
secular  predominance  of  this  majestic  number.  It  is  a  view 
adopted  by  very  eminent  scientific  men  ;  with  whose  judg 
ment  we  could  not  think  of  matching  our  own  in  a  question  of 
this  nature.  Yet  we  must  not  seem  to  glorify  our  subject  at 
the  expense  of  honest  dealing.  The  confession  must  be  made, 
that  with  the  best  wishes  we  have  not  been  able  to  satisfy 
ourselves  in  regard  to  that  view  ;•  to  be  certain  that  it  has  a 
positive  basis,  that  it  is  more  than  an  ingenious  and  interest 
ing  speculation.  If  it  were  otherwise,  if  we  could  overcome 
our  doubts  on  this  head,  then  would  we  profess  ourselves 
with  a  more  unquestioning  faith  even  than  now,  votaries  of 
the  world-regulating  Seven. 

But  let  us  proceed  with  the  Old-Testament  sevens.  The 
Seven  bears  an  important  part  in  ritual  observances.  In  many 
sacrifices  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood  was  to  be  repeated  seven 
times  ;  and  in  many  we  find  seven  mentioned  as  the  number 
of  the  victims  to  be  offered.  But  it  is  still  more  important  in 
reference  to  holy  times  and  seasons.  Not  only  is  the  seventh 
day  of  the  week  honored  as  a  Sabbath  with  perpetual  rcmem- 


332  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

brance,  but  the  seventh  week  of  the  year  brings  its  festival, 
the  Penteecst  or  fiftieth  day  :  for  it  is  separated  from  the  Pass 
over  by  forty-nine  days,  a  week  of  weeks,  and  is  therefore 
sometimes  called  the  feast  of  weeks.  So  the  seventh  month 
has  its  festival,  the  feast  of  tabernacles,  and  its  solemn  fast  too 
upon  the  tenth  day,  the  great  day  of  atonement.  Again, 
.there  is  a  week  of  years  terminating  in  the  seventh  or  Sab 
batical  year,  when  the  land  was  to  cease  from  labor  and  to  lie 
untilled.  Arid  once  more,  after  seven  weeks  of  years,  forty- 
nine  years,  came  the  great  fiftieth  or  Year  of  Jubilee. 

Returning  to  the  book  of  Genesis,  we  find  Noah  command 
ed  to  receive  .clean  beasts  and  fowls  into  the  ark  by  sevens. 
Seven  days  after  this  command  the  rain  begins.  Wearied 
with  .long  imprisonment,  Noah  sends  forth  a  dove,  which 
returns,  having  found  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  her  foot.  After 
seven  days  he  sends  her  forth  again,  and  she  returns  writh  an 
olive-leaf  in  her  mouth.  After  seven  days  more  he  sends  her 
forth  the  third  time,  and  she  returns  to  him  no  more.  The 
patriarch  Jacob,  in  his  protracted  courtship,  after  .  serving 
seven  years  for  the  wife  he  did  not  want,  was  forced  to 
serve  another  seven  for  the  wife  he  wanted.  In  Pharaoh's 
dream  interpreted  by  Joseph,  there  are  seven  fat  kine  and 
seven  lean,  the  seven  years  of  plenty  and  of  famine.  Seven 
years  occur  repeatedly  as  the  duration  of  a  famine.  The 
one  in  Elisha's  time  lasts  seven  years,  and  among  three  al 
ternative  evils  offered  to  David's  option,  one  is  a  seven  years' 
famine.  The  descendants  of  Jacob  return  at  last  to  the  land 
of  their  fathers,  from  which  God  had  promised  to  drive  out 
seven  nations  greater  and  mightier  than  they.  In  the  siege 
of  Jericho,  the  people  for  seven  successive  days  march  round 
the  city,  headed  by  seven  priests  blowing  on  seven  rams' 
horns.  Only  on  the  seventh  day  they  marched  seven  times 
round,  and  at  the  seventh  time  the  priests  blew,  the  people 
shouted,  and  the  wall  fell  down  flat.  Samson,  when  he  gave 
his  riddle  to  the  Philistines  in  Timnath,  allowed  them  the 
seven  days  of  his  wedding  feast  to  make  out  the  solution. 
When  the  Philistines  were  endeavoring  through  Delilah  to 
discover  the  secret  of  his  prodigious  strength,  he  first  directed 
that  they  should  bind  him  with  seven  green  withs,  and  again 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN.  333 

that  she  should  weave  the  seven  locks  of  his  head  with  the 
web.  These  methods  were  tried  without  success  ;  but  when 
at  last  the  seven  locks  were  quite  shaved  off,  his  strength 
went  from  him  ;  in  the  well-known  language  of  the  hymn,  he 
"shook  his  vain  limbs  with  sad  surprise,  made  feeble  fight 
and  lost  his  eyes."  But  it  would  be  tedious  to  pursue  this 
enumeration  through  the  whole  Bible.  Let  us  pass  on  to 
notice  a  somewhat  different  class  of  cases. 

In  numerous  instances  the  Seven  appears  to  be  used,  as 
we  say  a  score  or  a  dozen,  for  a  large  indefinite  number. 
The  great  prominence  given  to  the  Seven,  and  the  great 
respect  in  which  it  was  held,  made  it  natural  .that  it  should 
be  used  in  this  way.  Thus  in  Daniel,  the  fiery  furnace  was 
to  be  heated  for  the  three  recusant  Hebrews  "  one  seven 
times  more  than  it  was  wont  to  be  heated."  In  Proverbs  we 
are  told  that  a  just  man  falleth  seven  times  and  riseth  up 
again.  The  Psalmist  says,  "  Seven  times  a  day  do  I  praise 
thee  because  of  thy  righteous  judgments."  Apparently  this 
was  not  intended  for  an  exact  numerical  statement ;  although 
being  interpreted  in  that  way  it  is  relied  upon  as  author 
ity  for  the  seven  canonical  hours  of  devotion  ;  prima  (or 
prime),  matutina  (matin),  teriia,  sexta,  nona  (noon),  vesper  a 
(vesper),  and  completa.  Lamech,  who  was,  like  Enoch, 
seventh  from  Adam,  but  in  the  line  of  Cain,  says  to  his  wives 
Adah  and  Zillah,  "  If  Cain  shall  be  avenged  sevenfold,  truly 
Lamech  seventy  and  sevenfold."  And  our  Lord,  when  asked 
by  Peter,  "how  oft  shall  my  brother  sin  against  me  and  I 
forgive  him?  till  seven  times?"  replies,  "I  say  not  unto 
thee,  until  seven  times,  but  until  seventy  times  seven." 

But  of  all  the  inspired  books,  the  last  in  the  series,  the 
Apocalypse,  is  the  one  which  displays  most  frequently  and 
prominently  the  mystic  sacredness  of  the  number  seven. 
At  the  outset  John  addresses  himself  to  seven  churches  in 
Asia,  greeting  them  from  the  Lord  and  from  the  seven  spirits 
which  are  before  his  throne.  He  describes  his  vision  on  the 
isle  of  Patmos,  when  he  saw  one  like  unto  the  Son  of  Man, 
in  the  midst  of  seven  golden  candlesticks,  and  holding  in  his 
right  hand  seven  stars.  The  golden  candlesticks  are  ex 
plained  as  being  the  seven  churches,  and  the  seven  stars  the 


334  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

angels  of  those  churches.  In  the  following  visions,  a  throne 
is  set  in  heaven,  and  in  the  right  hand  of  Him  that  sat  on  it 
is  a  book  sealed  with  seven  seals.  Then  a  lamb  with  seven 
horns  and  seven  eyes,  which  are  the  seven  spirits  of  God 
sent  forth  into  all  the  earth,  takes  the  book  and  opens  the 
seven  seals  one  after  another,  the  opening  in  each  case  being 
followed  by  different  prodigies.  When  the  seventh  seal  is 
opened,  seven  angels  appear  with  seven  trumpets,  which 
they  blow  one  after  another,  and  the  blowing  is  followed  in 
each  case  by  new  prodigies.  Before  the  seventh  angel  sounds, 
seven  thunders  utter  their  voices.  Afterwards  appears  a 
dragon  with  seven  heads  and  ten  horns  and  seven  crowns 
upon  his  heads  :  and  anon  a  beast  rising  up  out  of  the  sea, 
also  with  seven  heads  and  ten  horns,  but  with  ten  crowns 
upon  his  horns.  Again  another  sign  in  heaven  great  and 
marvellous,  seven  angels  having  the  seven  last  plagues,  who 
pour  out  one  after  another  the  seven  vials  of  God's  wrath 
upon  the  earth.  Then  is  seen  a  woman  seated  on  a  scarlet 
colored  beast  which  has  seven  heads,  these  being  seven 
mountains  on  which  the  woman  sittcth  ;  and  it  is  added, 
there  are  seven  kings,  of  whom  five  are  fallen,  and  one  is, 
and  one  is  yet  to  come.  In  the  last  vision,  that  of  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  prevailing  number  is  not  seven  but 
twelve,  derived  evidently  from  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel. 
But  with  this  exception  seven  is  everywhere  the  prevailing 
number  of  the  book  ;  so  that,  as  Von  Hammer-Purgstall  ob 
serves,  there  are  two  sevens  in  the  greeting,  seven  churches 
and  seven  spirits ;  and  in  the  body  of  the  work  there  are 
fuund  besides  two  sevens  of  sevens  :  viz.,  first,  seven  candle 
sticks,  stars,  seals,  horns,  eyes,  trumpets,  thunders ;  and 
second,  seven  angels,  heads,  crowns,  plagues,  vials,  moun 
tains,  kings. 

Such  being  the  rank  and  dignity  of  the  number  Seven 
throughout  the  Bible,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  nations  of 
Christendom,  with  whom  the  Bible  is  at  once  the  best  known 
and  most  revered  of  all  books,  should  have  attached  special 
importance  to  the  number.  Illustrations  of  this  fact,  drawn 
from  the  literature  of  modern  Europe,  might  be  multiplied 
to  almost  any  extent.  But  I  shall  confine  myself  to  a  single 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN.  335 

author,  one  who  may  be  regarded  with  more  propriety  than 
any  other  as  the  representative  of  modern  European  litera 
ture. 

The  following  are  specimens  of  the  Shakspearian  sevens. 
In  the  Merchant  of  Venice  (II.  9),  the  Prince  of  Arragon, 
who  comes  as  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  Portia,  having  unfor 
tunately  for  himself  made  choice  of  the  silver  casket,  reads 
this  schedule : — 

The  fire  seven  times  tried  this  ; 
Seven  times  tried  that  judgment  is, 
That  did  never  choose  amiss. 

In  Hamlet  (IV.  5),  Ophelia  appears  fantastically  drest,  and 
cries  : — 

0  heat,  dry  up  my  brains  ;   tears  seven  times  salt 
Burn  out  the  sense  and  virtue  of  mine  eye. 

Of  Coriolanus  (II.  i)  it  is  said:  "He  received  in  the  re 
pulse  of  Tarquin  seven  hurts  in  the  body." 

In  Measure  for  Measure  (II.  i),  we  find  an  allusion  to  the 
seven  mortal  sins  : — 

Sure,  it  is  no  sin, 
Of  the  deadly  seven  it  is  the  least. 

In  Julius  Caesar  (III.  i),  the  servant  of  Octavius  says  of 
his  master  : — 

He  lies  to-night  within  seven  leagues  of  Rome. 
So  in  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  (I.  i),  Lysander  says  : — 

Hear  me,  Hermia  ; 

1  have  a  widow  aunt,  a  dowager, 

Of  great  revenue,  and  she  hath  no  child  : 
From  Athens  is  her  house  remote  seven  leagues. 

This  may  remind  us  of  the  famous  seven-league  boots,  so 
long  current  in  popular  tradition,  which,  having  now  been 
vamped  up  with  new  art  by  the  author  of  Peter  Schlemihl's 
Wonderful  History,  may  be  expected  to  travel  down  to  the 
remotest  posterity. 


336  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

In  As  You  Like  It  (III.  2),  Rosalind,  speaking  of  the  pro 
gress  of  time,  says,  "  Marry,  he  trots  hard  with  a  young 
maid  between  the  contract  of  her  marriage  and  the  day  it  is 
solemnized;  if  the  interim  be  but  a  sevennight,  Time's  pace 
is  so  hard,  that  it  seems  the  length  of  seven  years." 

The  designation  "  seven  years  "  is  very  frequently  repeated. 
Thus  in  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  (III.  3),  the  Watchman 
says,  "  I  know  that  Deformed  ;  a'  has  been  a  vile  thief  this 
seven  year." 

In  Coriolanus  (II.  i),  Menenius  says,  "  A  letter  for  me?  it 
gives  me  an  estate  of  seven  years'  health."  And  again  : — 

If  I  could  shake  off  but  one  seven  years 

From  these  old  arms  and  legs,  by  the  good  gods, 

I'd  with  thee  every  foot. 

In  Pericles  (IV.  6),  Boult  says,  "  Go  to  the  wars,  would  ye, 
where  a  man  may  serve  seven  years  for  the  loss  of  a  leg,  and 
have  not  money  enough  in  the  end  to  buy  him  a  wooden  one." 

In  King  Lear  (III.  4),  Edgar  sings:— 

But  mice  and  rats  and  such  small  deer 
Have  been  Tom's  meat  for  seven  long  year. 

In  As  You  Like  It  (II.  7),  is  found  the  celebrated  passage  :— 

All  the  world's  a  stage, 

And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players  ; 
They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances, 
And  one  man  in  hi*s  time  plays  many  parts, 
His  acts  being  seven  ages. 

Then  follow  the  seven— infant,  school-boy,  lover,  soldier, 
justice,  old  age,  and  second  childhood.  Everybody  knows 
the  passage  ;  but  everybody  does  not  know  that  this  division 
of  human  life  into  seven  ages  is  an  idea  prevalent  long  before 
the  time  of  Shakspeare,  as  far  back  even  as  the  Greek  physi 
cian  Hippocrates,  more  than  four  centuries  before  our  era. 

In  the  same  play,  we  have  the  seven  degrees  of  offence  in 
affairs  of  honor.  Touchstone  says,  "  I  have  had  four  quar 
rels,  and  like  to  have  fought  one.  Jaques.  And  how  was 
that  ta'en  up  ?  Touchstone.  Faith,  we  met  and  found  the 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN.  337 

quarrel  was  upon  the  seventh  cause.  Jaques.  How  did  you 
find  the  quarrel  on  the  seventh  cause  ?  Touchstone.  Upon  a 
lie  seven  times  removed — as  thus,  Sir  :  I  did  dislike  the  cut 
of  a  certain  courtier's  beard  ;  he  sent  me  word,  if  I  said  his 
beard  was  not  cut  well,  he  was  in  the  mind  it  was.  This  is 
called  the  Retort  courteous.  If  I  sent  him  word  again,  it  was 
not  well  cut,  he  wo  if  Id  send  me  word,  he  cut  it  to  please  him 
self.  This  is  called  the  Quip  modest.  If  again  it  was  not 
well  cut,  he  disabled  my  judgment.  This  is  called  the  Reply 
churlish.  If  again  it  was  not  well  cut,  he  would  answer,  I 
spake  not  true.  This  is  called  the  Reproof  valiant.  If  again 
it  was  not  well  cut,  he  would  say,  I  lie.  This  is  called  the 
Counter-check  quarrelsome  :  and  so  to  the  Lie  circumstantial, 
and  the  Lie  direct.  Jaques.  And  how  oft  did  you  say  his 
beard  was  not  well  cut  ?  Touchstone.  I  durst  go  no  further 
than  the  Lie  circumstantial ;  nor  he  durst  not  give  me  the  Lie 
direct,  and  so  we  measured  swords  and  parted." 

Further  on  in  the  same  colloquy,  Touchstone  says,  "  I 
know  when  seven  justices  could  not  settle  a  quarrel,  but  when 
the  parties  were  met  themselves,  one  of  them  thought  but  of 
an  If,  as,  If  you  said  so,  then  I  said  so.  And  they  shook 
hands  and  swore  brothers.  Your  If  is  the  only  peacemaker : 
much  virtue  in  If." 

A  word  now  in  regard  to  the  Mohammedans.  The  religion 
of  the  Koran,  like  that  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  made 
its  first  appearance  among  a  Semitic  people  ;  the  Israelite  has, 
in  race  and  tongue,  no  nearer  kinsman  than  the  Ishmaelite. 
The  Koran,  too,  like  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  has  car 
ried  the  ascendency  of  the  number  Seven  over  vast  regions 
of  the  earth.  Its  preeminence  in  the  Moslem  scriptures, 
though  less  marked  and  conspicuous  than  in  ours,  is  yet  not 
to  be  mistaken.  The  sevens  of  the  Koran  counted  up  greatly 
outnumber  the  eights  and  sixes  put  together.  It  is  possible 
that  in  this  point  Mohammed  may  have  felt  the  influence  of 
the  Bible,  with  which,  though  unable  to  read  it,  he  had  cer 
tainly  picked  up  some  acquaintance.  But  it  is  more  likely 
that  he  gave  expression  to  a  feeling  which  belonged  already 
to  his  Arab  fellow-countrymen,  in  common  with  their  kindred 
of  Palestine.  The  most  venerated  monument  of  their  ante- 
22 


338  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

Mohammedan  literature,  the  collection  of  poems  known  as  the 
Moallakat—Tpozms  written  in  golden  letters,  and  suspended 
at  the  Holy  Kaaba  in  Mecca — was  the  production  of  seven 
authors.  At  all  events,  it  is  certain  that  the  Mohammedan 
Arabs  have  shown  an  extraordinary  predilection  for  the 
Seven,  not  yielding  in  this  respect  either  to  Jews  or  Chris 
tians.  They  have  discovered  or  imagined  an  immense  num 
ber  of  septenary  groups,  in  religion,  history,  art,  philosophy, 
and  indeed  all  branches  of  human  knowledge.  We  shall  not 
undertake  to  exhibit  even  specimens  of  these.  They  are  col 
lected  to  a  great  extent  in  a  remarkable  work,  the  Sukkerdan, 
or  Sugar  Box,  as  it  is  called,  in  which  this  confectionery  of 
the  Arab  mind  is  sorted  and  stored  in  innumerable  parcels 
of  seven.  It  is  the  composition  of  an  African  scholar,  Ibn 
Khojle,  who  wrote  in  the  year  of  the  Hejra  757  (A-  D-  I35fy, 
and  died  in  the  year  of  the  Hcjra  776.  We  may  suspect  that 
in  this  last  date  a  mistake  has  been  made  of  one  year,  and 
that  his  life  actually  passed  away  in  777. 

Ibn  Khojle  is  not  the  only  writer,  nor  is  he  by  many  centu 
ries  the  earliest,  who  composed  an   elaborate   work   on   the 
number   seven.     Among   the    voluminous    writings    of   Philo 
Judaeus  —  Philo,   the   learned   Jew  of  Alexandria,   a  contem 
porary  of  our  Saviour  —  we   find  a  special  dissertation,   De 
Scptcnario,  on  the  number  seven  ;  while  in  another  work,  on 
the  Mosaic  History  of  the  Creation,  he  dwells  at  length  on  the 
dignity   and   sacredness  of  the  same   number.      Nor  has  the 
subject  been  overlooked  by  Christian  writers.     The  Fathers 
have  frequent  allusions  to  it,  though  no  one  of  them,  so  far  as 
we  know,  has  made  it  the  theme  of  a  separate  treatise.      But 
in  modern  times  we  find  the  work  of  Wurffbain  which  bears 
the  following  title  :    De  numero  scptcnario  variarum  lectionum 
collcctioncm  hanc  philologicam  elaboravit  Leonhartt  Wurffbain 
Noribergcnsis  Doctor,  anno   salntis    1630,  cetatis   suce   septies 
septimo.      Const  at  septeno  qnicquid  in  orbe  fuit.      Nirinbergce, 
163$ — '  This  philological  collection  of  various  readings  on  the 
number    seven    hath    Leonhartt    Wurffbain,    of  Nuremberg,* 
Doctor,  elaborated  in  the  year  of  salvation  the  i63Oth,  of  his 
own    age    the    seven    times    seventh.      Whatsoe'er    on    earth 
existeth,  in  a  seven  it  consisteth.    Nuremberg,  1633.'   Within 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN.  339 

the  last  few  years,  WurfTbain  has  found  among  his  own  coun 
trymen  a  more  distinguished  successor.  The  Wiener  Jalir- 
buchcr  for  1848  contains  a  series  of  articles  on  the  number 
seven,  the  contribution  of  a  veteran  Orientalist,  whose  la 
mented  death  occurred  about  two  years  ago — the  Baron  Von 
Hammer-PurgstalL  We  have  placed  his  name  at  the  head  of 
our  own  remarks,  and  take  pleasure  in  acknowledging  that  we 
are  dependent  to  a  great  extent  upon  his  learned  labors.  If 
any  of  our  readers  find  their  curiosity  athirst  for  further  de 
tails,  we  can  refer  them  to  his  two  hundred  pages.  Only  a 
word  of  caution.  We  would  advise  our  friends  not  to  attempt 
those  articles,  unless  consciously  animated  by  a  genuine  inte 
rest  in  the  subject,  profoundly  impressed  by  the  mystic  pre 
dominance  of  this  venerable  number  ;  otherwise  they  may 
find  Von  Hammer-Purgstall's  ocean-flood  of  septenary  erudi 
tion  somewhat  too  overwhelming  for  them,  and  may  prefer  to 
take  up  with  the  small  specimen-phial  which  we  have  the 
honor  of  exhibiting. 

It  remains  to  say  a  word  in  regard  to  the  cause  or  causes  of 
the  honor  so  early  and  so  widely  paid  to  the  number  seven. 
Arithmetical  reasons  have  been  assigned  for  it ;  we  find  them 
drawn  out  at  length  by  Philo  the  Jew.  If  we  take  the  ten 
primary  numbers — that  is,  the  series  from  I  to  10  (leaving  out 
of  view  the  I ,  which  is  regarded  as  the  basis  of  all  number, 
but  hardly  a  number  itself) — we  shall  find  that  some  of  them 
are  produced  by  multiplication  :  as  4  by  multiplying  2  and  2  ; 
6  by  2  and  3  ;  8  by  2  and  4  ;  9  by  3  and  3  ;  10  by  2  and  5. 
Some  again  are  not  themselves  produced  by  multiplication, 
but  by  their  multiplication  produce  others  of  the  series  :  thus 
2  helps  to  produce  4  and  6  and  8  and  10  ;  3  helps  to  produce 
6  and  9  ;  4  to  produce  8,  and  5  to  produce  10.  Thus  we 
have  the  products  of  multiplication  4,  6,  8,  9,  10,  and  the  pro 
ducers  2,  3,  4,  5.  Seven  alone  belongs  to  neither  class;  it 
neither  produces  nor  is  produced  ;  and  is  thus  clearly  distin 
guished  from  its  fellows.  Another  property  :  if  we  start  with 
unity,  and  go  on  doubling,  we  form  the  geometric  series  1,2, 
4,  8,  16,  32,  64.  In  this  series  the  seventh  term  64  is  at  the 
same  time  an  exact  square  number,  and  an  exact  cube  number, 
its  square  root  being  8,  and  its  cube  root  4.  Now  let  us  start 


340  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

again  with  unity  and  go  on  trebling  :  we  form  the  series  I,  3, 
9,  27,  Si,  243,  729;  and  here  again  the  seventh  term  729  has 
the  same  remarkable  property  of  being  an  exact  square  and 
cub'e  number  at  the  same  time  ;  its  square  root  being  27  and 
its  cube  root  9.  And  so  if  we  form  our  series  by  quadrupling 
or  quintupling,  or  with  any  other  ratio,  the  seventh  term  will 
still  have  the  same  property  ;  which  is  easily  accounted  for  by 
our  algebra,  the  seventh  term  of  such  a  series  being  the  sixth 
power  of  the  ratio,  which  is  of  course  the  square  of  the  third 
power  and  the  cube  of  the  second  power.  It  is  evident,  how 
ever,  that  these  properties  of  the  number  seven  will  not  ex 
plain  the  origin  of  the  feeling  under  consideration  :  they  are 
very  far  from  being  obvious ;  they  would  probably  have 
passed  without  notice,  or  at  all  events  without  special  atten 
tion,  had  not  the  established  sacredness  of  the  number  set 
men  upon  the  hunt  to  find  out  everything  remarkable  con 
nected  with  it. 

Others  rely  upon  a  chronological  reason  :  they  derive  the 
veneration  for  the  Seven  from  the  early  division  of  time  into 
periods  of  seven  days — that  is,  from  the  week.  It  is  certainly 
probable  that  the  week,  if  it  did  not  give  origin  to  the  feeling, 
has  contributed  to  give  it  strength  and  perpetuity.  Even  if 
we  regard  the  week  as  at  first  a  merely  human  division  of 
time,  suggested  by  the  changes  of  the  moon,  though  after 
wards  taken  up  with  divine  sanctions  into  the  Mosaic  economy, 
still  it  could  hardly  fail,  when  once  established,  to  invest  its 
number  with  peculiar  interest  and  importance  :  just  as  the 
widely  recognized  distinction  of  the  number  twelve  may  be 
ascribed  to  the  twelve  months  (mooneths),  revolutions  of  the 
moon,  which  correspond  nearly  to  a  single  revolution  of  the 
sun.  Still  more  might  this  effect  be  looked  for,  if  wre  regard 
the  week  as  being  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  a  positive 
divine  institution.  But  some  who  take  the  latter  view  feel 
prompted  to  go  further,  and  to  explain  why  this  number 
should  have  been  selected  by  the  Deity  as  the  number  of  the 
week,  and  thereby  as  the  subject  of  peculiar  dignity  and 
reverence.  .Thus  Bahr,  in  his  Symbolism  of  the  Mosaic 
Ritual,  observes  that  the  Seven  is  formed  by  the  union  of  two 
symbolic  numbers  :  namely,  three,  which  symbolizes  the 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 


341 


divine,  since  the  Godhead  is  a  trinity,  and  four,  which  sym 
bolizes  the  cosmical,  the  created  universe  of  space,  this  being 
all  determined  in  situation  by  the  four  cardinal  directions  or 
points  of  the  compass,  North,  South,  East,  and  West.  The 
Seven,  therefore,  is  in  the  highest  degree  symbolic,  repre 
senting  the  union  of  the  divine  and  the  cosmical,  and  espe 
cially  representing  that  reunion  of  the  world  with  God  which 
is  the  great  aim  and  crowning  consummation  of  all  true  re 
ligion.  Kurtz  also,  another  learned  and  pious  theologian  of 
Germany,  in  the  Studicn  und  Kritiken  for  1844,  goes  into  an 
elaborate  vindication  of  the  same  view.  In  like  manner,  the 
twelves  of  the  new  Jerusalem,  which  have  been  already  re 
ferred  to,  are  explained  as  being  the  symbolic  product  of  the 
same  symbolic  numbers.  We  have  spoken  before  of  arithme 
tical  and  chronological  reasons  :  we  may  describe  this  as  a 
symbolical  reason.  Such  views  will  be  very  differently  re 
ceived  by  different  persons.  The  example  of  Bilhr  himself 
shows  that  minds  of  a  high  order  can  find  interest  and  satis 
faction  in  them.  At  the  same  time  there  will  always  be 
others,  men  of  positive  and  critical  minds,  who  will  distrust 
them  as  wanting  an  objective  basis,  or  think  of  them  as 
thin  but  highly  flavored  soups,  fitted  to  tickle  or  to  tease 
the  intellectual  palate,  but  affording  next  to  nothing  of  sub 
stantial  nutriment. 

Next  the  physiological  reasons.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
importance  of  the  Ten,  as  the  universal  numerating  number 
of  all  languages  and  peoples-— for  all  men  count  by  tens,  and 
tens  of  tens,  and  tens  of  tens  of  tens,  and  so  on,  not  in  fig 
ures  only  but  in  words,  and  not  in"  words  only  but  in  con 
ceptions  :  thought  and  language  have  always  been  decimal, 
though  figures  have  not  always  been  so — nobody  doubts,  we 
say,  that  this  ascendency  of  the  Ten  depends  upon  a  physio 
logical  reason,  one  which  makes  it  natural  and  handy  for  all 
men  to  reckon  thus  ;  that  our  apprehension  of  number  is 
-  more  than  figurative,  it  is  really  a  taking  hold  of  it  with  our 
ten  fingers.  The  science  of  number  appears  to  be  of  all 
others  the  least  artificial ;  yet  there  is  no  art,  not  even  the 
potter's,  which  shows  more  clearly  the  impress  of  man's 
hands.  Now  some  would  find  similar  reasons  for  the  pre- 


342  THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

eminence  of  the  Seven.  Thus  we  have  the  seven  parts  of  the 
human  body,  the  head,  chest,  and  loins,  with  the  four  limbs, 
upper  and  lower.  So,  too,  we  have  the  seven  openings  of 
the  head,  the  three  twin  pairs  of  eyes,  ears,  and  nostrils,  with 
the  monadic  mouth  to  make  the  seventh.  Further,  in  many 
diseases,  the  seventh,  fourteenth,  twenty-first  days  are  critical 
periods,  and  were  so  regarded  by  ancient  physicians.  To 
these  anatomical  and  pathological  sevens  Von  Hammer- 
Purgstall  seems  inclined  to  give  the  foremost  place,  and  to 
consider  them  as  the  most  effective  agents  in  creating  a 
reverence  for  the  Seven.  To  us,  we  confess,  they  do  not 
appear  very  striking.  We  should  ascribe  a  far  earlier  and 
more  powerful  influence  to  the  astronomical  sevens. 

We  need  not  say,  that  to  the  men  of  primitive  times  the 
spectacle  of  the  nocturnal  heavens  was  as  impressive  as  it  was 
constant.  But  in  this  spectacle  there  was  no  object,  the 
moon  alone  excepted,  so  striking  to  the  inhabitants  of  the 
north  temperate  zone — that  is,  to  all  the  cultivated  nations  of 
antiquity — as  that  group  of  seven  splendid  never-setting  stars- 
in  which  the  utilitarian  imagination  of  the  Yankee  recognizes 
—a  dipper.  The  ancient  Greeks  saw  in  it  the  great  northern 
bear;  the  Romans,  seven  plough-oxen,  scptcm  trioncs ; 
among  Greeks  and  Romans  both,  an  entire  quarter  of  earth 
and  sky  received  its  name  from  this  constellation.  The  stars 
composing  it  were  called  by  the  Persians  heft  crcng,  the 
'  seven  thrones,'  seats  for  the  monarchs  of  the  sky.  The 
celestial  empire  would  thus  sQem  to  be,  like  Anglo-Saxon 
England,  a  Heptarchy.  But  while  in  this  unequaled  constel 
lation  the  glory  of  the  Seven  is  most  conspicuously  blazoned, 
there  are  other  notable  groups  which  hold  forth  the  same 
skyey  number  :  as  the  lesser  bear,  inferior  in  brightness  to 
the  other,  but  distinguished  as  containing  that  remarkable 
star,  which  amid  all  motions  and  revolutions  of  earth  and 
heaven  has  kept  through  the  ages  the  same  fixed  place,  the 
unvarying  guide  of  benighted  mortals.  Nor  must  we  forget 
the  sweet  influences  of  the  Pleiades,  "  glittering  like  a  swarm 
of  fire-flies  tangled  in  a  silver  braid;"  nor  how  ''through 
scudding  drifts  the  rainy  Hyades  vexed  the 'dim  sea."  In  a 
passage  of  the  Iliad,  Homer,  describing  the  shield  of 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN. 

Achilles,  tells  us  that  the  divine  artisan  represented  within 
its  central  circle — 

the  earth,  the  heaven,  the  sea  ; 
The  sun  that  rests  not,  and  the  moon  full-orbed  ; 
There  also  all  the  stars,  that  round  about 
As  with  a  radiant  frontlet  bind  the  sky  ; 
The  Hyads,  and  the  Pleiads,  and  the  might 
Of  huge  Orion,  with  him  Ursa  called, 
Known  also  by  his  popular  name  the  Wain. 

It  is  worthy  of  notice  that,  among  the  constellations  here  spe 
cified  as  most  interesting  to  the  Homeric  Greeks,  three  out  of 
the  four  present  the  septenary  number. 

But  wre  have  yet  to  mention  the  great  planetary  seven. 
Most  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  though  revolving  daily  round  the 
earth,  maintain  the  same  position  relative  to  each  other. 
But  there  are  seven  which  wander  without  resting  through 
the  stationary  camp.  Among  these  seven  wanderers,  or  plan 
ets,  are  the  two  greater  lights  that  rule  the  day  and  the  night, 
and  the  two  usher  stars  that  herald  the  morning  and  the  eve 
ning.  Enumerated  in  the  order  of  their  distance  from  the 
earth,  as  determined  by  the  ancient  astronomy,  they  are  the 
Moon,  Mercury,  Venus,  the  Sun,  Mars,  Jupiter,  and  Saturn. 
From  the  earliest  times  they  have  been  an  object  of  wonder,  of 
curiosity,  of  study,  to  star-gazing  men.  Their  movements 
have  been  watched  with  the  minutest  observation,  and  every 
possible  device  adopted  to  unravel  the  mystery  of  their  way 
ward  courses.  The  feeling  toward  them  is  well  illustrated  by 
the  Persian  literature,  in  which  a  great  variety  of  honorary 
titles  are  applied  to  them,  such  as  the  seven  pearls,  the  seven 
golden  corals,  seven  eyes  of  heaven,  seven  tapers  or  torches, 
seven  peers,  seven  sultans,  seven  great  ladies,  seven  green 
daughters,  seven  heart-breaking  boys,  and  so  on,  and  so  on. 
Each  of  these  bodies  has  his  own  heaven,  or  sphere  in  which 
he  moves  about  the  earth.  Hence  the  idea  of  seven  heavens, 
which,  with  the  correlative  seven  hells,  we  have  noticed  al 
ready.  For  these  seven  heavens  the  Persians  have  an  even 
greater  redundancy  of  titular  expressions,  such  as  the  seven 
buildings,  the  seven  temples,  the  seven  roofs,  the  seyen  domes, 
the  seven  vaults,  the  seven  blue  curtains,  the  seven  watered-col- 


344  ™E  NUMBER  SEVEN, 

ored  sun-screens,  the  seven  castles  of  gilded  enamel,  the  seven 
horse-mills  or  ass-mills  (in  which  the  stars  go  round  and  round, 
as  the  ass  in  the  mill).  But  we  need  not  multiply  illustrations 
to  show  how  profound,  as  well  as  early,  were  the  impressions 
made  by  these  seven  planets  upon  the  minds  of  men.  It  is 
true  that  science  has  been  making  wild  work  with  this  ancient 
and  venerable  seven.  The  peerage  of  England  has  been  more 
than  once  menaced  with  degradation  by  a  large  addition  of 
upstart  nobles.  Something  like  this  has  actually  happened 
to  the  celestial  peerage.  But  let  not  these  parvenu  planets — 
Dii  minorum  gentium — whether  condemned  to  outer  dark 
ness  like  Uranus  and  Neptune,  or  huddled  together  like  As- 
traea,  Flora,  and  fifty  more,  as  if  to  make  up  by  collective 
numbers  for  individual  insignificance — let  them  not  suppose 
that  they  can  take  rank  with  the  ancient  nobility  of  the  skies. 
There  arc  prerogatives  of  the  original  seven  from  which  they 
are  forever  excluded.  They  can  never  preside  over  the  re 
volving  week.  They  can  never  be  the  arbiters  and  expo 
nents  of  human  destiny.  For  the  seven  planets  are  the  great 
objects,  not  only  of  astronomy,  but  of  astrology.  They 
are  the  lords  of  life  ;  by  their  endless  relations  to  each  other 
and  to  the  fixed  stars  they  determine  the  endless  varieties  of 
human  character  and  fortune.  We  profess  to  disbelieve  in 
astrology;  our  science  is  against  it.  Yet  still,  if  anything 
particularly  fortunate  befalls  us,  we  bless  our  stars  for  it.  As 
Max  Piccolomini  says  in  Schiller's  play  : — 

"  Still  doth  the  old  instinct  call  back  the  old  names, 

—  and  even  at  this  day 
'Tis  Jupiter  who  brings  whate'er  is  great, 
And  Venus  who  brings  everything  that's  fair." 

At  all  events,  the  days  of  the  week  still  retain  their  old  as 
trological  designations,  still  own  in  name  the  mastery  of  the 
planetary  seven.  We  have  our  Saturn-day,  our  Sun-day,  our 
Moon-day.  And  if,  instead  of  having  a  Mars-day,  Mercury- 
day,  Jove  day,  Venus-day,  like  the  people  of  France,  Italy, 
and  Spain,  we  speak  of  Tuis'-day,  and  Woden's-day,  and 
Thor's-day,  and  Freya's-day,  it  is  a  mere  translation — the 


THE  NUMBER  SEVEN.  345 

translation  of  Roman  names  by  their  supposed  representatives 
in  northern  mythology. 

And  now,  who  will  not  admit  that  the  veneration  for  the 
Seven  is  in  literal  truth  a  lesson  of  celestial  teaching  ?  In  this 
respect,  as  in  others,  "night  unto  night  showeth  knowledge 
—no  speech,  no  language — their  voice  is  not  heard — yet  their 
line  is  gone  out  through  all  the  earth,  and  their  words  to  the 
end  of  the  world." 


DECISIONS  OF  COLLEGE  CLASS  DISPUTES. 

XVIII. 

I.     ARE   THE  WRITINGS  OF  LORD  BYRON  IMMORAL   IN   THEIR 

TENDENCY  ? 

1847- 

BYRON,  it  seems  to  me,  was  a  bad  man.  Doubtless  he 
had  his  good  impulses — who  has  not  ?  A  mind  so  vigor 
ous  must  have  seen  the  excellence  of  virtue  ;  a  sensibility  so 
keen  must  have  felt  it.  But  was  the  will  subject  to  its  power  ? 
Did  the  man  live  with  good  and  noble  aims  ?  or  did  he  live 
with  vile  and  selfish  aims  ;  live  to  gratify  pride  and  passion  ? 
The  life  and  writings  of  Byron  are  consistent  with  each  other  : 
they  both  nlike  show  a  fierce  and  haughty  nature,  spurning 
all  restraint,  controlled  neither  by  reason  nor  religion.  He 
never  governs  himself.  lie  is  swayed  like  a  reed  by  every 
gust  of  passion.  It  is  melancholy  to  speak  thus  of  a  man  so 
highly  gifted.  But  it  is  the  truth.  I  have  read  Moore's 
apology  nearly  through.  It  is  a  book  which  corrects  itself. 
The  writer  wishes  to  convey  a  favorable  impression  of  Byron. 
In  his  descriptions  everything  is  softened,  and  displayed  in 
the  most  advantageous  light.  But  unfortunately — unfortu 
nately,  I  mean,  for  the  subject  of  the  biography  ;  fortunately 
for  the  reader,  fortunately  for  the  interests  of  truth — he  has 
not  muzzled  his  charge  ;  his  protege  is  allowed  to  speak  for 
himself;  and  he  never  speaks  without  betraying  the  atra  bills 
that  was  in  him.  It  is  impossible  to  read  that  book,  as  it  is 
impossible  to  read  the  writings  of  Byron,  without  feeling  that 
the  moral  nature  of  the  man  had  become  corrupted  and  dis 
eased.  Would  you  become  convinced  of  this  ?  Take  another 
man,  and  not  the  highest  style  of  man,  either — Walter  Scott 
— and  compare  Byron  with  him.  His  qualities  become  more 
striking  when  placed  side  by  side  with  those  of  a  sound  and 
healthy  nature.  Turn  from  Walter  Scott  to  Byron,  and  how 


LORD  BYRON'S  WRITINGS. 


347 


great  the  transition  !  It  is  like  passing  from  summer  to 
winter.  The  one  healthy  in  feeling  and  expression,  with  a 
sunny  genial  nature,  radiant  with  charity,  kindness,  honesty, 
hearty  affection,  and  loving  humor  ;  a  soul  at  peace  with  the 
world,  and  submitting  without  a  murmur  to  the  laws  that 
govern  it.  Such  is  the  one.  The  other  is  cold  and  bitter 
and  satirical.  According  to  Moore,  his  conversation  was 
always  spiced  with  raillery  at  absent  friends  ;  he  had  a  breast 
haunted  by  evil  demons,  devoured  by  gloomy  passions.  He 
is  always  kicking  against  the  pricks,  dashing  himself  with  im 
potent  spite  against  the  barriers  which  society,  which  God 
himself  has  placed  around  him.  With  all  his  splendid  en 
dowments,  was  there  ever  a  man  so  little  to  be  envied  ? 

There  may  have  been  writers  whose  moral  qualities  did 
not  appear  in  their  writings.  Byron  was  not  one  of  these. 
He  was  intensely  subjective — to  use  a  fashionable  term  of 
modern  criticism.  The  man  appears  in  all  his  works.  His 
personality  is  everywhere  prominent.  He  is  always  describ 
ing  himself;  or,  if  describing  anything  else,  stamps  himself 
on  that  which  he  describes.  His  poems  of  course  reflect  the 
immorality  of  his  nature.  And  this  is  true  of  all  of  them — 
grave  or  gay,  true  heroic  or  mock  heroic.  Childe  Harold  is  as 
really  immoral  as  Don  Juan.  The  difference  between  them 
is  that  the  one  scowls  and  the  other  sneers.  The  one  bids  a 
sullen  defiance  to  the  laws  of  moral  order  ;  the  other  seeks  to 
cover  them  with  a  load  of  blasphemous  and  indecent  ridicule. 
A  poem  is  not  of  course  moral  because  it  contains  no  foul 
words,  no  expressions  but  such  as  could  be  repeated  in  a 
drawing-room.  Immorality  and  indelicacy  are  different 
things.  Rabelais  is  indelicate  to  the  last  degree,  but  he  is 
not  really  immoral.  Congreve  is  far  less  indelicate,  but  far 
more  immoral.  The  book  which  breathes  an  immoral  spirit 
is  an  immoral  book.  The  book  which  expresses  the  feelings 
of  an  immoral  man  is  an  immoral  book.  The  spirit  of  Byron's 
poems  is  destructive.  Discontent,  skepticism,  scorn  are 
written  on  every  page.  He  is  at  war  with  all  that  is  estab 
lished  ;  he  refuses,  at  least  in  spirit,  submission  to  established 
authority,  divine  and  human. 
.  It  is  often  said  that  this  impatient  temper  must  be  forgiven 


348  CLASS  DECISIONS  : 

to  a  man  of  his  genius.  The  poet,  gifted  with  a  soul  larger, 
deeper,  stronger  than  those  of  ordinary  men,  cannot  be  con 
fined  within  the  same  narrow  limits  as  they.  He  bursts  the 
barriers  which  shut  in  others  ;  or,  if  he  cannot  burst  them, 
chafes  angrily  and  impatiently  against  them.  Was  it  so  with 
Shakespeare  and  Milton  ?  The  poet,  if  he  sees  farther  than 
common  men,  more  clearly  than  they,  will  see  the  necessity 
of  those  restraints  which  God  and  man  have  placed  about  his 
path — their  necessity  to  himself;  for,  if  he  is  a  genius,  he  is 
yet  a  man,  erring  and  sinful  like  all  his  race — their  necessity 
to  others;  and,  seeing  this,  he  will  beware  how  he  shakes 
others'  faith  or  encourages  in  them  a  feeling  of  discontent  and 
insubordination.  And  if  not,  if  instead  of  this  he  chooses  to 
wage  war  against  the  laws  of  moral  order,  the  grand  condi 
tions  of  human  life,  individual  and  social,  then  his  guilt  will 
be  proportionate  to  those  endowments  of  the  Almighty  which 
he  has  perverted  to  wicked  and  unworthy  ends. 

To  criticize  the  literary  merit  of  Byron's  poems  does  not 
come  within  the  scope  of  this  discussion.  I  am  ready  to  ac 
knowledge  his  extraordinary  powers — though  I  think  that  his 
moral  character  has  had  a  very  injurious  effect  upon  his 
literary  character  ;  that  with  the  calmness,  the  clearness,  the 
conscious  effort,  the  lofty  purposes  of  a  truly  moral  nature, 
he  would  have  soared  far  higher,  and  produced  works  of  far 
greater  value  even  as  works  of  poetic  art. 

I  do  not  say  that  Byron  should  not  be  read  at  all.  The 
man  who  would  investigate  the  morbid  anatomy  of  the  hu 
man  mind  will  find  in  Byron's  works  an  admirable  study.  •  It 
may  be  well  on  some  accounts  to  know  how  a  haughty  and 
malignant  spirit  will  express  itself  in  good  set  English. 

My  own  course  of  reading  was  subject  to  very  little  guid 
ance  from  without,  and  was  at  first  confined  to  a  small  library, 
to  which  many  of  the  British  classics  had  not  gained  admit 
tance.  Under,  such  circumstances  I  read  much  the  greater 
part  of  Byron's  works.  I  now  regret,  not  that  I  read  him  at 
all,  but  that  much  of  the  time  which  I  gave  him  was  not  de 
voted  to  other  and  healthier  writers — especially  to  those  con 
temporaries  of  Byron  whom  he  so  much  affected  to  despise, 
but  whom  he  had  so  little  reason  to  despise,  his  equals,  his 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  ELOQUENCE.  349 

superiors  even  in  many  intellectual  gifts,  greatly  his  superiors 
in  moral  excellence — Robert  Southey  and  William  Words 
worth. 


2.     IS   ANCIENT   ELOQUENCE    SUPERIOR   TO   MODERN? 

1849- 

TEIERE  are  two  ways  of  viewing  this  subject.  We  might 
commence  with  the  circumstances  and  conditions  on  which 
eloquence  depends,  and,  by  comparing  these  in  ancient  and  in 
modern  times,  judge  by  a  sort  of  d  priori  judgment  which 
period  should  naturally  have  the  higher  eloquence.  We  often 
see  and  hear  the  question  discussed  in  this  way.  On  the 
other  hand,  we  may  consider  the  actual  specimens  of  ancient 
and  modern  eloquence,  and  by  direct  comparison  determine 
the  superiority  of  this  or  that,  leaving  it  for  after  work  to  de 
termine,  if  possible,  the  causes  and  conditions  of  that  superi 
ority.  The  form  of  our  question  would  lead  us  rather  to  the 
latter  mode  of  treatment.  But  there  is  a  preliminary  point  to 
settle  :  and  that  is  the  standard  of  excellence.  What  are  we 
to  look  at — is  it  elegance,  is  it  feeling,  is  it  passion,  is  it 
argument,  is  it  logic  or  rhetoric  ;  or  all  combined  ?  Some 
have  a  simple  test,  and  that  is  persuasiveness  ;  the  best  ora 
tion  is  the  most  persuasive,  and  vice  versa,  the  most  persuasive 
is  the  best ;  for  it  best  fulfils  the  end  of  eloquence,  which  is 
persuasion.  But  there  is  still  a  difficulty  here.  The  elo 
quence  of  Mike  Walsh  has  an  effect  as  persuasive  on  the  col 
lective  blackguardism  of  New  York  as  the  eloquence  of  Daniel 
Webster  has  on  the  collective  dignity  and  learning  of  the 
Senate  or  the  Supreme  Court.  Shall  we  therefore  decide 
that  the  one  is  no  higher  than  the  other  ?  Now  persuasive 
ness,  tendency  or  adaptation  to  secure  that  course  of  action 
which  the  orator  desires,  is  indeed  an  indispensable  element 
in  true  eloquence.  But  there  is  another  element,  of  great  im 
portance,  which  may  vary  much  in  orations  equally  persuasive  : 
and  that  is  artistic  perfection,  aptness  to  satisfy  the  aesthetic 
sense,  the  critical  faculty  in  man.  An  oration  may  be  re- 


350  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

garded  as  a  work  of  art,  and  subject  more  or  less  to  the  pre 
dicates  symmetrical,  perfect,  beautiful,  or  the  reverse.  In 
deed,  no  cultivated  mind  can  help  taking  this  view.  He  whcr 
has  taste — that  is.  the  critical  faculty  which  judges  of  form- 
must  be  shocked  with  what  is  out  of  taste,  must  admire  that 
which  good  taste  recommends  and  sanctions.  Now  it  is  pre 
cisely  here  that  I  would  take  my  stand.  In  everything  else— 
in  vehemence  of  passion,  in  depth  of  feeling,  in  cogency  of 
argument,  in  attractiveness  of  persuasion — I  admit  that  the 
moderns  have  shown  themselves  not  inferior  to  the  ancients. 
But  in  finish  and  perfection,  in  symmetry  and  beauty  of  out 
ward  form,  I  bow  to  the  superiority  of  the  ancient  masters. 
I  regard  the  orations  of  Demosthenes  as  not  only  unsurpassed, 
but  as  unrivalled" specimens  of  oratoric  art.  And  now,  having 
pronounced  this  opinion,  if  you  ask  me  why,  why  this  was 
so,  why  an  old  Athenian  should  have  borne  away  from  all 
the  world  the  prize  of  art  in  oratory,  I  cannot  say,  I  cannot 
satisfy  your  curiosity.  I  do  not  ascribe  it  to  a  genial  climate, 
or  a  productive  soil  ;  to  successful  wars  with  foreign,  powers, 
or  noble  struggles  for  national  independence  ;  nor  to  agricul 
tural,  mechanical,  professional,  political  activity  ;  nor  to  de 
mocratic  institutions,  to  annual  magistracies,  to  vote  by  ballot 
or  by  bean.  I  do  not  deny  that  these  things  had  their  in 
fluence,  as  furnishing  field  and  opportunity  and  encourage 
ment  to  intellectual  development.  But  that  matchless 
aesthesis  of  the  Greeks,  that  unrivalled  taste,  that  wonderful 
sense  of  beauty  and  harmony  and  proportion — where  that 
came  from  is  more  than  I  can  tell  ;  I  greatly  doubt  whether  it 
is  in  any  proper  sense  the  creature  of  external  circumstances. 
I  hold,  then,  that  the  same  causes  which  made  a  Homer  the 
first  of  epic  poets,  and  a  Phidias  the  first  of  sculptors,  and  a 
Pindar  the  first  of  lyric  bards,  and  the  builder  of  the  Parthe 
non  the  first  of  architects — the  same  causes  rendered  Demos 
thenes  the  first  of  orators.  Only  let  circumstances  offer  fair 
occasion,  and  the  nation  which  has  the  keenest  and  truest 
sense  of  the  beautiful  and  the  perfect  will  present  the  highest 
master-works  of  art. 

It  fills  me   with  wonder   to  see  how   completely    some  of 
those  old  Greeks  were  under  the  dominion  of  their  taste,  and 


ENGLISH  OR  THO  GRAPHY.  3  5 1 

how  much  they  must  have  sacrificed  to  it.  Every  oration  of 
Demosthenes  is  to  my  mind  a  heroic  exhibition  of  self-denial. 
So  many  graces  of  style  and  felicities  of  expression,  so  many 
details  sublime,  pathetic,  brilliant  must  have  occurred  to  his 
rich  and  copious  mind,  which  ever  and  anon  shows  when  such 
things  are  necessary  that  there  was  no'  lack  of  power  to  ori 
ginate  them — and  yet,  in  general  he  rigorously  rejects  them, 
and,  if  he  ever  employs  them,  employs  them  most  sparingly. 
Everywhere  he  sacrifices  the  part  to  the  whole,  beauty  of  de 
tail  to  general  effect  :  and  so  he  holds  on  in  his  severe  sim 
plicity,  rarely  allowing  any  embellishment,  just  as  an  archi 
tect  decorates  only  the  capitals  of  his  columns  or  the  cornice 
of  his  roof,  trusting  to  the  grand  and  stately  proportions  of 
the  completed  edifice.  How  different  all  this  from  the  gene 
ral  character  of  modern  oratory,  and  above  all  of  American 
oratory,  I  need  not  say.  The  introduction  to  one  of  Colonel 
Benton's  speeches  is  longer  than  the  three  Olynthiacs  put  to 
gether,  and  contains,  I  dare  say,  more  figures  of  speech  and 
more  grandiloquent  phrases,  and  questionless  more  egotism 
than  all  three  ;  and  yet  the  world  of  cultivated,  educated  men 
would  hardly  consent  to  barter  one  Olynthiac  oration  for  all 
the  windy  declamations  of  the  Colonel,  from  the  fight  with 
General  Jackson  to  the  present  time. 


3.     IS   A   REFORM   DESIRABLE   IN   THE    METHOD    OF  WRITING 
THE   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE  ? 

1852. 

THE  Chinese  more  than  any  other  people  have  need  of  a 
phonographic  revolution.  With  less  than  five  hundred  differ 
ent  syllables  in  their  language,  they  have  an  immense  num 
ber  of  written  characters — forty  thousand,  it  is  said,  in  all, 
though  not  more  than  ten  thousand  are  in  general  use. 
These  characters  are  most  of  them  very  complicated,  and  re 
quiring,  as  they  do,  to  be  written  with  perfect  accuracy  in 
order  to  avoid  confusion  between  such  as  are  of  similar  form, 


352 


CLASS  DECISIONS  : 


they  make  it  a  most  arduous  work  to  master  them,  and  it  is 
literally  true  that  multitudes  in  China  are  all  their  lives  long 
learning  to  read  and  write.  The  case  is  not  so  bad  with  us  ; 
there  is  a  general  relation  between  the  alphabetic  signs  we 
use  and  the  vocal  sounds  for  which  we  use  them.  But  it  is  a 
relation  so  variable,  so  irregular,  so  capricious,  so  subject  to 
manifold  and  endless  exceptions,  as  to  impose  grievous  diffi 
culties  on  a  learner.  It  does  not  matter  so  much  with  us  who 
are  brought  up  under  it  ;  line  upon  line,  lesson  upon  lesson,  wre 
get  hold  of  the  system,  if  that  name  can  be  given  to  anything 
so  unsystematic  ;  through  much  weariness,  through  many 
blunders,  through  some  floggings,  it  may  be,  the  successful 
boy  at  length  learns  to  spell — fails  now  and  then  on  a  hard 
word,  such  as  phthisic;  has  to  consult  his  Dictionary  now  and 
then,  to  find  how  many^'s  there  are  in  waggon,  or  whether 
sibyl  is  spelt  sibyl  or  sybil — but  on  the  whole  is  entitled,  as 
things  human  go,  with  some  degree  of  unavoidable  imperfec 
tion,  to  the  dignity  of  Master  of  Spelling.  That  is  the  suc 
cessful  boy  ;  but  all  boys  are  not  successful,  nor  all  young 
men  either — as  college  compositions  not  unfrequently  attest. 
I  know  a  man  of  talents  and  of  literary  cultivation  who  cannot 
learn  to  spell  the  words  which  come  from  the  Latin  cede, 
some  of  which  have  cccd,  and  others  cede — such  as  accede  and 
exceed,  precede  and  proceed,  secede  and  succeed,  etc.  ;  he  never 
can  tell  which  is  which.  And  I  have  heard  several  well-edu 
cated  persons  say  that  there  are  particular  words  or  classes  of 
words  which  always  puzzle  them.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  it  is 
of  less  consequence  to  us  who  are  born  and  bred  under  this 
sort  of  spelling  ;  the  years  which  we  spend  upon  it  are  of  no 
great  value  to  us  ;  we  should  not  accomplish  very  much  be 
side — except  that  one  might  learn  two  or  three  decently- 
spelled  languages  while  he  is  learning  to  spell  his  own  ;  and, 
if  he  did  not,  how  much  pleasanter  to  be  playing  long  ball  or 
ranging  through  the  woods  !  We  get  a  certain  discipline,  no 
doubt,  from  our  drudgery  ;  only  would  it  not  be  better  to  get 
our  discipline  in  mastering  some  useful  thing,  when  there  are 
so  many  useful  things  to  be  mastered  ?  But  with  us  it  is  less 
matter  ;  it  is  for  foreigners  that  my  sympathies  are  most 
strongly  enlisted,  for  men  who  in  adult  years  set  themselves 


ENGLISH  ORTHOGRAPHY.  353 

to  learning  English.  In  itself  our  language  is  a  very  easy 
one.  Its  sounds  are  not  difficult,  except  the  two  t/i's,  which 
are  easy  for  a  modern  Greek,  but  hard  to  all  the  other  Euro 
pean  nations  ;  but  in  general  they  are  easy,  though  some 
times  rendered  difficult  by  harsh  accumulations — as  in  Jiosts, 
asked.  Our  system  of  declension  and  conjugation  is  an  easy 
one,  as  the  inflexions  are  reduced  very  nearly  to  a  minimum. 
Nor  has  the  language  very  much  of  troublesome  idiom,  like* 
French  and  Latin  ;  there  is  a  twist  about  will  and  sliall  in  the 
future,  which  proved  fatal,  it  is  said,  to  a  drowning  French 
man,  whose  agonizing  cry,  "I  will  be  drowned  ;  nobody  shall 
help  me,"  was  rather  calculated  to  repel  than  invite  assistance 
— but  this  distinction  is  ill-observed  by  Scotch  and  Irish,  and 
by  Americans,  too,  out  of  New  England,  and  seems  to  be 
gradually  fading  out  from  the  language.  I  am  convinced 
(without  particulars)  that,  apart  from  its  orthography,  the 
English  is  easier  of  acquisition  than  any  other  idiom  of  Europe. 
But  the  orthography  is  a  very  serious  obstacle  ;  every  for 
eigner  who  has  learned  English  in  adult  years  will  speak  feel 
ingly  of  his  trouble  and  occasional  despair  at  its  numberless 
and  capricious  exceptions  and  irregularities.  Perhaps  it 
would  not  be  going  too  far  to  say  that  a  uniform  orthography, 
with  notation  of  the  accent,  would  lighten  by  half  the  labor  of 
learning  English.  And  many  foreigners  are  studying  Eng 
lish  now-a-days  ;  the  astonishing  development  of  the  English 
race  is  carrying  their  language  far  and  wide  in  every  conti 
nent.  English  is  now  the  language  of  North  America,  with 
its  rapidly  increasing  millions  ;  it  will  soon  be  the  language  of 
millions  in  the  ancient  peninsula  of  India  ;  it  will  soon,  if  it 
.  does  not  now,  carry  a  man  farther  over  the  world,  bring  him 
into  connection  with  greater  multitudes  and  wider  regions, 
than  any  other  tongue.  This  commanding  and  ever-growing 
importance  of  the  language  is  making  it  more  and  more  the 
object  of  study  among  foreigners,  who  might  not  have  been 
attracted  by  the  treasures  of  a  literature  which  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  pronounce  the  noblest  of  modern  Europe.  But 
when  you  put  all  things  together,  its  noble  literature,  its 
political  importance,  its  simplicity  of  structure,  you  will 
see  that,  if  its  acquisition  were  facilitated  by  a  uniform 
23 


354  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

orthography,  it  might  almost  come  to  be  ere  long  a  universal 
language. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  English  language  is  shocking 
ly  spelled.  The  original  difficulty  lay  in  the  mixture  of  dif 
ferent  languages,  Saxon  and  Norman  French,  out  of  which 
came  English  ;  the  confusion  of  different  systems,  varying 
and  conflicting  analogies,  is  everywhere  to  be  seen  in  our 
.^orthography. 

Besides,  the  French,  which  makes  one  element  of 
English,  does  itself  enjoy,  next  to  the  English  and  perhaps 
the  Gaelic,  the  honor  of  being  the  worst  spelt  language  of 
Europe  Franklin  used  to  say  that  what  we  call  false  spelling 
of  the  vulgar  was  really  true  spelling.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
should  say  that,  for  vulgar  spelling  is  sometimes  most  ingeni 
ously  absurd.  But  I  certainly  feel  a  good  deal  of  hesitation 
about  saying  in  regard  to  any  man  that  he  spells  badly  :  I 
say  that  he  does  not  spell  like  most  of  us  ;  he  spells  singu 
larly,  peculiarly  ;  but  I  do  not  see,  on  the  whole,  that  he 
spells  worse  than  the  spelling-books  and  newspapers. 

It  is  very  unfortunate  that  Johnson's  Dictionary  should 
have  come  to  be  such  a  standard  of  spelling.  For  the  con 
sequence  has  been  that  the  processes  which  were  going  on 
before — gradual  progressive  processes,  to  root  out  anomalies 
and  bring  in  greater  regularity,  processes  which  went  on 
naturally  and  almost  without  notice — were  at  once  arrested, 
and  the  system  which  had  before  been  somewhat  flexible  be 
came  at  once  a  cast-iron  affair.  That  such  processes  were 
going  on,  to  the  great  advantage  of  the  system,  will  be  plain 
enough  to  any  one  who  takes  a  book  printed  in  the 
Elizabethan  age — say  one  of  the  earlier  translations  of  the 
Bible — and  compares  it  with  the  books  printed  in  the  first 
part  of  the  last  century.  That  such  processes  were  arrested 
by  the  appearance  of  Johnson's  Dictionary  is  evident  from 
the  outcry  which  is  raised  against  any  spelling  that  departs 
from  the  prescription  of  that  autocratic  lexicographer.  No 
philologist  needs  to  be  reminded  that  Johnson  had  little  fit 
ness  for  the  work  of  legislation  in  orthography.  This  would 
be  evident  enough  from  his  famous  dictum  that  it  is  absurd 
to  regulate  your  spelling  by  your  pronunciation,  for  pronun- 


ENGLISH  ORTHOGRAPHY.  355 

elation  changes  all  the  time,  and  your  standard  is  therefore 
variable  and  fluctuating.  He  did  not  see  that  this  is  one  of 
the  strongest  reasons  for  regulating  spelling  by  pronunciation  ; 
for  if  pronunciation  changes  all  the  time  while  spelling  re 
mains  fixed,  the  two  will  diverge  more  and  more  widely  from 
each  other,  until  they  cease  to  have  any  relation,  and  we  shall 
write  in  hieroglyphics.  Most  evidently  the  proper  aim  and 
object,  the  ideal  of  alphabetic  writing,  is  to  furnish  an  exact 
reflexion  of  the  spoken  language,  a  faithful  representation  of 
what  we  hear  in  daily  utterance.  In  its  most  advanced  per 
fection,  every  elementary  sound  will  be  represented  by  a 
special  character,  and  each  character  will  be  used  in  every 
case  to  represent  the  same  sound.  There  is  no  great  objec 
tion,  however,  to  a  combination  of  characters  used  to  repre 
sent  a  sound  different  from  either — as,  for  instance,  ch  in 
church,  provided  always  that  it  is  used  with  perfect  consistency. 
The  reform  recently  attempted  has  taken  high  ground,  avoid 
ing  such  combinations  of  characters,  and  representing  the 
same  sound  always  by  the  same  alphabetic  sign.  Perhaps 
this  is  the  best  course,  though  I  have  always  felt  that  the  in 
troduction  of  new  letters,  which  this  plan  requires,  might  op 
erate  pretty  strongly  to  prevent  its  adoption. 

The  objections  commonly  urged  against  a  new  system  ot 
phonography  have  in  my  view  very  little  weight.  It  is  often 
said  that,  if  this  plan  were  adopted,  all  books  printed  hitherto 
would  be  useless.  It  is  certain  that  people  would  not  read 
them  quite  so  readily  as  now  ;  but  only  for  this  reason,  that 
they  would  spend  less  time  in  acquiring  the  power.  It  would 
be  really  as  easy  as  ever  for  people  to  learn  the  old  system  : 
or  rather,  far  easier  ;  for  then  it  would  be  necessary  only  that 
they  should  learn  to  read,  to  recognize  the  words  when  they 
see  them  ;  and  not  to  learn  what  is  far  harder,  to  spell,  to 
reproduce  the  words  when  you  do  not  see  them.  Another 
objection,  which  has  considerable  influence,  is  that  a  new 
system  would  obscure  the  etymology  of  words,  which  is  now 
shown  in  many  cases  by  the  spelling.  But  as  regards  this, 
the  etymology  of  words  is  of  little  practical  value  except  to 
scholars,  who  could  always  get  it  out  of  books  of  lexicography  ; 
it  is  not  worth  while  for  their  benefit  to  impose  a  heavy  bur- 


356  CLASS  DECISIONS  : 

den  upon  the  world  at  large.  But  our  common  spelling  is 
often  an  untrustworthy  guide  to  etymology.  Take  the  word 
.sovereign  :  the  people  who  first  spelt  it  so  supposed  no  doubt 
that  it  had  something  to  do  with  reign  /  but  it  most  certainly 
has  not.  It  comes  from  Latin  super,  through  Italian  sovrano, 
etc.  But  I  will  go  further,  and  say  that  the  wants  of  the 
philologist  require  a  different  system.  What  is  important  for 
him  is  that  he  should  know  the  condition  of  a  language  at  any 
given  period  of  the  past,  that  he  may  be  able  to  trace  it 
through  its  successive  changes  to  its  latest  form.  Now  in 
doing  this  he  must  depend  mainly  on  the  spelling,  the  writ 
ing  ;  if  this  be  maintained  invariable  from  age  to  age  ami-d  all 
mutations  of  spoken  words,  the  philologist  is  deprived  of  his 
most  serviceable  guide.  I  would  give  a  good  deal  to  get  a 
Fonctic  Nuz  of  Chaucer's  time,  that  I  might  know  how  far 
some  important  phenomena  of  the  modern  language — as  for 
instance  the  change  of  a,  to  e,  of  e  to  ?,  and  of  \  to  ai — had  es 
tablished  themselves  five  centuries  ago. 

There  are  many  points  of  which  I  should  be  glad  to  speak 
more  at  length,  but  I  must  stop.  You  will  see  from  what  I 
have  said  that  I  recognize  fully  the  evils  of  our  present 
orthography  (as  men  sarcastically  term  it),  and  that  I  sym 
pathize  in  the  objects  of  a  phonographic  revolution.  But  in 
regard  to  the  feasibility  of  such  a  revolution  I  am  far  from 
being  sanguine  ;  a  political  revolution,  I  suspect,  would  be 
a  much  easier  undertaking.  Yet  I  have  no  desire  to  damp 
the  ardor  of  those  who  are  more  sanguine  than  myself;  on 
the  contrary,  I  wish  them  all  success  in  their  work,  being 
sure  at  least  of  this — that,  whatever  imperfections  may  belong 
to  their  systems,  they  cannot  be  so  bad  as  ordinary  good 
spelling. 


4.     WAS     CIVIL    LIBERTY     IN     EUROPE     PROMOTED     BY     THE 
CAREER    OF   NAPOLEON  ? 

1852. 

THE  selfishness  of  Bonaparte  is  now  as  universally  admitted 
as  his  transcendent  abilities.     There  was  an  English '  officer 


NAPOLEON  AND  EUROPEAN  LIBERTY.  357 

who  wrote  a  book,  some  years  ago,  to  prove  that  Bonaparte 
was  a  bungler  in  war,  that  he  violated  every  rule  of  general 
ship,  and  won  all  his  great  battles  by  mistake,  A  preposter 
ous  attempt — as  though  the  voice  of  a  pettifogging  critic  could 
drown  the  paean  of  praise  that  rises  to  Napoleon  from  twenty 
glorious  battlefields  ;  as  though  Jena  and  Austerlitz,  Boro 
dino  and  Eylau  were  not  stronger  arguments  than  any  pos 
sible  accumulation  of  professional  technics  !  Equally  pre 
posterous  would  it  be  to  dispute  the  selfishness  of  Bonaparte, 
to  pretend  that  he  cared  for  anybody  but  himself,  and,  most 
of  all,  to  maintain  that  he  cared  a  straw  for  civil  liberty.  His 
government  was  the  government  of  the  strong  arm.  It  was 
of  espionage,  of  repression,  of  censorship,  of  anything  but 
civil  liberty.  If  Bonaparte  did  anything  to  help  the  cause  of 
freedom,  he  must  have  done  it  undesignedly,  by  accident  or 
by  mistake.  This  is  possible,  certainly.  A  man  may  work 
toward  ends  which  he  has  no  idea  of.  The  old  Greeks,  when 
they  planted  their  colonies  on  all  the  coasts  of  the  Mediter 
ranean,  and  under  Alexander  and  his  successors  established 
their  civilization  and  their  language  in  wide  regions  of  Europe 
and  Asia,  had  no  thought  of  Christianity,  and  the  progress 
by  which  it  would  one  day  supplant  the  gods  of  Hellas  ;  yet 
they  were  contributing  all  the  time  to  this  great  progress  of 
Christianity.  In  the  same  unconscious  way  may  Bonaparte 
have  contributed  to  the  advance  of  civil  liberty. 

Look  then  to  his  own  country,  to  France,  the  special 
theatre  of  an  activity  which  extended  over  the  world.  What 
did  he  do  for  civil  liberty  in  France  ?  Did  he  limit  or  destroy 
the  absolute  authority  of  the  throne  ?  He  established  a 
throne  as  absolute  as  the  most  despotic  court  of  the  Bour 
bons.  Did  he  erect  the  fabric  of  a  free  representative  govern 
ment  ?  He  would  as  soon  have  shattered  the  throne  on  which 
he  sat,  and  blown  up  the  palace  in  which  he  held  his  court. 
Did  he  break  the  bonds  of  an  antiquated  and  oppressive  feu 
dalism  ?  He  found  them  broken  by  the  Revolution,  and  it 
would  have  required  a  hand  stronger  even  than  his  to  fasten 
them  again.  He  promulgated  a  body  of  law,  the  famous 
Code  Napoleon.  But  a  code  of  law  is  intended  to  secure  the 
people  in  person  and  in  property,  not  to  secure  them  in  the 


358  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

rights  and  privileges  of  citizens.  It  is  designed  to  protect 
social  rights,  not  civil.  The  Roman  Law  attained  its  highest 
perfection  in  the  time  of  its  emperors,  when  civil  liberty  was 
at  an  end.  Its  latest  and  most  finished  form  appears  in  the 
Justinian  Code  ;  yet  nobody  speaks  of  Justinian  as  having 
promoted  civil  liberty,  in  Europe  or  elsewhere.  It  may  be 
said  that  a  good  code,  giving  as  it  does  personal  security,  will 
lead  men  to  aspire  further  after  political  privilege.  But  the 
experience  of  the  world  is  rather  against  this.  Men  who  are 
personally  well  off,  secure,  easy,  comfortable  in  their  circum 
stances,  are  apt  to  be  content  with  this,  and  to  submit  to  the 
existing  government,  however  absolute  it  may  be.  It  was 
physical  suffering,  hardship,  and  starvation  which  made  the 
Revolution  in  France,  not  the  aspiration  after  citizenship. 

But  let  us  look  beyond  France.  The  Germans  in  general 
speak  very  bitterly  of  Napoleon.  But  Godfrey  Hermann,  the 
famous  scholar,  used  to  say  that  it  was  a  good  thing  to  have 
a  thorough  shaking  up  now  and  then.  This  is  the  great  benefit 
which  Bonaparte  conferred  on  Europe  :  he  gave  it  a  thorough 
shaking  up.  His  actions  were  too  great  to  be  hushed  up 
among  princes  and  diplomatists,  to  be  concealed  from  the 
common  people  ;  they  penetrated  every  class  of  society,  and 
roused  the  popular  mind  from  its  slumbers.  They  set  men 
thinking  :  and  it  was  not  strange  that,  among  other  things, 
they  should  think  on  civil  liberty  ;  that  they  should  raise  a 
thousand  questions  as  to  their  actual  and  their  proper  condi 
tion  which  had  never  occurred  to  them  before.  Men  saw — 
common  men,  I  mean — they  saw  that  the  government  placed 
over  them  was  not  an  immutable  fixity,  not  an  inevitable 
necessity  ;  when  Napoleon  appeared,  it  was  neither  fixed  nor 
necessary — it  was  obliged  to  change  and  yield  according  to 
his  direction.  Might  it  not  feel  the  influence  of  some  other 
force — as  (say)  the  declared  will  of  the  people  ?  The  same 
lessons,  to  be  sure,  had  been  taught  by  the  American  Revolu 
tion.  But  America  was  far  away  beyond  the  ocean,  and  there 
were  multitudes  in  Europe  who  had  scarcely  heard  the  name. 
The  same  lessons  had  been  taught  by  the  French  Revolution — 
a  very  great  event,  the  greatest  since  the  Reformation,  and  one 
that  could  not  fail  to  make  a  deep  impression  on  the  general 


NAPOLEON  AND  EUROPEAN  LIBERTY.  359 

mind  of  Europe  ;  and  it  is  not  easy  always  to  distinguish  be 
tween  the  agitation  which  Napoleon  effected,  and  that  which 
would  have  been  produced  without  him  by  the  Revolution  ot 
which  he  was  himself  in  some  sort  the  creature.  But  this  we 
may  say,  that  whatever  lessons  were  taught  by  the  French 
Revolution,  it  was  Napoleon  who  by  his  wars  and  conquests 
carried  them  to  every  door  in  Europe. 

In  Germany  the  influence,  the  indirect  influence,  of  Napo 
leon  went  further  than  this.  The  legitimate  sovereigns  of 
Germany,  defending  themselves  against  the  Conqueror,  found 
it  convenient  to  make  their  appeal  to  a  sentiment  of  German 
patriotism.  Napoleon  had  said,  there  are  no  Germans  ;  there 
are  Hessians,  Saxons,  Bavarians,  but  there  are  no  Germans. 
He  found  in  his  own  experience  that  there  were  Germans. 
They  rose  against  him  in  their  anger  and  their  might,  and 
thrust  him  out  of  their  land,  their  own  German  fatherland. 
This  Germanic  unity  is  a  strange  sort  of  thing.  The  people 
are  one  in  their  language,  their  physical  peculiarities,  their 
general  type  of  character,  their  traditions,  and  their  feelings. 
The  sentiment  of  their  oneness  is  very  strong  among  them  ; 
it  is  a  positive  enthusiasm  ;  and  they  are  capable  of  doing 
great  things  under  its  influence,  as  witness  their  heroic  resist 
ance  to  Napoleon  in  1813.  But  when  it  comes  to  regular, 
systematic  political  action,  the  oneness  vanishes,  the  old  di 
visions  reappear  ;  and,  as  Napoleon  said,  we  have  only  Hes 
sians,  etc. ,  no  longer  any  Germans.  These  things  were  very 
plain  in  the  movements  of  the  year  1848  ;  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  talk  about  a  united  Germany  ;  and  there  was  war  with 
Denmark,  in  order  to  wrest  from  her  Holstein,  which  is  Ger 
man,  and  attach  it  to  this  united  Germany  ;  but  though 
Prussia  led  the  attack,  Denmark,  little  as  she  is,  opposed  a 
stout  resistance,  and  has  at  last  got  her  own  again.  But  this 
German  unity,  though  it  could  produce  an  aggressive  war, 
could  not  keep  the  Frankfort  parliament  together,  or  soothe 
the  jealousies  of  thirty  petty  states.  And  the  case  is  much 
the  same  with  Italy. 

But,  imperfect  and  defective  as  it  is,  this  feeling  is  very 
strong  in  Germany,  and  must  some  day  work  out  great  results 
in  the  history  of  that  country.  It  received  a  very  great  start 


360  CLASS  DECISIONS  : 

in  the  Napoleon  times  ;  and  whatever  it  may  accomplish  in 
the  future  will  be  due  in  some  measure  to  Napoleon.  Small 
thanks  to  him  for  it. 

But  Germany  went  further  still.  The  common  activity  of 
the  people,  their  efforts,  contributions,  sacrifices  for  their 
country,  awoke  in  them  the  consciousness  of  their  own  manly 
worth,  a  consciousness  of  political  capacities  and  energies 
which  they  had  never  felt  before  ;  and  they  began  to  feel  the 
honorable  yearning  after  citizenship.  They  had  not  the  po 
litical  experience  and  education  necessary  for  the  enlarged  and 
thoroughly  successful  exercise  of  civic  rights  ;  but  they  were 
not  sensible  of  their  deficiencies  ;  and,  if  they  had  been, 
might  have  felt  that  to  supply  them,  the  best  way  was  to  be 
gin  at  once  under  some  system  of  free  institutions.  And  be 
sides,  their  demands  were  not  extravagant.  They  did  not 
propose  to  overthrow  their  monarchical  governments  ;  they 
desired  only  constitutions,  with  provision  for  popular  repre 
sentation.  This  the  German  princes  were  ready  enough  to 
promise  in  the  hour  of  their  extremity  ;  and  ready  enough  to 
forget  their  promise  in  the  hour  of  their  restored  security. 
But  they  could  not  make  their  people  forget  it  :  again  and 
again  have  they  been  reminded  of  their  promise,  until  the 
King  of  Prussia,  reluctant  as  he  was,  felt  himself  at  last 
obliged  to  yield  and  establish  a  system  of  popular  represent 
ation.  It  was  greatly  qualified,  indeed,  and  restricted  ;  still, 
it  was  something  ;  it  conceded  at  least  the  principle  ;  and  it 
might  serve  as  an  entering  wedge  to  open  the  way  by  slow 
and  sure  degrees  to  greater  things.  The  spirit  which  extorted 
this  concession  is  not  dead  ;  it  is  not  confined  to  .Prussia.  It 
must  make  itself  felt  more  and  more  in  the  politics  of  Ger 
many  ;  and  as  it  gained  its  first  strength  in  the  Napoleon  times, 
so  whatever  it  may  do  hereafter  will  be  due  in  some  measure 
to  Napoleon.  And  again,  small  thanks  to  him  for  it. 

While  I  hold,  then,  that  Napoleon  did  something  to  pro 
mote  the  advance  of  civil  liberty  Jn  Europe,  my  great  sur 
prise  would  be,  that  one  could  hold  his  place  and  do  so  little 
for  it.  The  truth  is  that  progress  in  civil  liberty  is  the  des 
tiny  of  Europe  ;  it  belongs  to  the  inevitable,  irresistible  tend 
ency  of  things  ;  no  human  power  can  arrest  it ;  and  even  its 


REPUBLICANISM  IN  EUROPE.  361 

greatest   enemies   cannot   in  spite   of  themselves  help   doing 
something  for  its  furtherance. 


5.    IS    EUROPE   TENDING   TO    REPUBLICANISM? 
1852. 

I  REGARD  this  question  as  one  not  of  mere  curiosity,  but  of 
real  practical  importance  ;  important  not  only  to  the  nations 
immediately  interested,  but  to  us  also,  who  are  fellow-actors 
with  them  in  the  great  historic  drama.  No  man  of  intelli 
gence  and  education  ought  to  hold  himself  apart — no  man  of 
enlarged  mental  activity  and  moral  earnestness  can  hold  him 
self  aloof — from  the  great  world-'movements  of  his  time.  He 
must  take  his  attitude  in  regard  to  them  ;  he  must  have  his 
sympathies  ;  he  must  be  prepared  to  approve  the  right  and  to 
condemn  the  wrong,  to  uphold  the  beneficent  and  to  oppose 
the  harmful  :  and  in  order  to  this,  he  must  have  his  reasons, 
intelligible  to  himself  and  statable  to  others,  his  theory  of 
things,  his  conception  of  the  world  as  it  is,  its  condition,  pur 
port,  and  tendencies.  Public  opinion  is  only  the  general  re 
sultant  of  such  individual  conceptions  ;  it  is  the  grand  sum  of 
such  private  opinions  :  and  if  the  great  aggregate  is  an 
immense  force  in  the  world,  for  good  or  for  evil,  it  is  the  duty 
of  every  man  to  look  carefully  to  that  particular  element  of  it 
which  he  himself  contributes.  Nobody,  certainly,  can  doubt 
that  our  government  has  and  will  have  an  important  influence 
in  shaping  the  world  as  it  is  to  be  :  what  this  influence  shall 
be,  is  a  thing  to  be  determined  ultimately  by  the  views  and 
feelings  of  the  individual  citizens.  And  therefore  it  is  that  I  call 
this  a  question  of  real  practical  importance  to  every  one  of  us. 

The  writings  of  Thomas  Carlyle  contain  a  theory  of 
government — such  as  it  is,  undeveloped,  unsystematic,  yet 
still  a  theory  of  government — which  I  wish  to  speak  of,  be 
cause  Carlyle  exerts  a  powerful  influence  on  the  public  mind, 
and  especially  on  the  mind  of  young  men  ;  an  influence  which 
I  have  felt  powerfully  myself,  and  see  frequent  traces  of  in 
others  ;  an  influence  in  many  respects  most  valuable,  but  all 
the  more  needing  correction  where  it  is  wrong.  Carlyle  holds 


362  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

that  the  great  object  in  government  is  that  the  people  should 
be  well  governed,  good  laws  passed  with  good  sanctions, 
good  roads  and  bridges  made,  good  schools  established,  good 
connections  formed  with  foreign  countries,  good  measures 
taken  for  war  and  for  peace — in  short,  that  things  should  be 
wrell  done  for  the  people,  that  they  should  be  thoroughly  and 
effectually  governed.  Now  this  requires  that  the  best  man 
should  be  made  governor  ;  the  king,  the  true  king,  according 
to  Carlyle's  derivation,  is  the  '  canning  '  or  able  man,  the 
*  cunning'  or  knowing  man  ;  he  it  is  whom  the  Saxons  called 
cyniug,  or  '  king  ;'  he  is  dc  jure  the  king,  the  sovereign  of  his 
people.  Gifted  with  faculty  to  discern  what  is  best  for  the 
people,  and  with  commanding  energy  to  execute  what  he  dis 
cerns  to  be  best,  it  is  his  right  to  rule  ;  it  is  the  duty  of  others 
to  obey  ;  and  the  more  implicit  and  submissive  the  obedience, 
the  better.  This  is  the  political  creed  of  a  man  who  deifies 
power,  and  above  all  power  of  will  ;  who  does  not  scruple  to 
say  that  even  in  this  world  might  is  right  in  the  long  run — a 
principle  which  has  its  relation  to  truth,  but  is  as  dangerous 
as  its  converse,  that  right  is  might  in  the  long  run,  is  always 
noble  and  elevating.  That  Carlyle  should  deride  republican 
ism,  and  especially  democracy,  is  a  natural  consequence  of 
this  way  of  thinking.  But  in  his  scheme  there  are  two  fatal 
deficiencies  ;  he  provides  no  answer  for  these  two  momentous 
questions:  i.  How  we  are  to  ascertain  this  canning  cunning 
man  who  is  to  be  our  king — if  without  previous  trial,  by  what 
criteria  ;  if  with  trial,  by  what  system  that  shall  afford  fair 
field  for  all  competitors  ;  2.  How  we  are  to  shift  in  the  mean 
time  ;  how  we  are  to  get  along,  if  he  does  not  exist,  until 
he  does  ;  or,  if  he  does  exist  unknown  to  us,  how  we  are  to 
get  along  until  we  know  him. 

But  the  theory  of  Carlyle,  like  all  absolutist  theories,  has 
another,  deeper  and  more  fatal  deficiency.  It  assumes  that 
the  good  of  a  government  lies  only  in  its  ends  — its  acts, 
laws,  measures  and  so  on, — and  that  when  these  are  given 
it  matters  little  by  what  means  they  come  about  ;  only, 
the  simpler  and  more  effectual  the  means,  the  better.  You 
have  only  to  consider  the  grist  ;  if  that  is  good,  the  way 
of  grinding  is  a  matter  of  but  little  consequence.  But  gov- 


REPUBLICANISM  IN  E UR OPE.  363 

ernment  in  its  ideal  perfection  is  valuable  not  only  for  its 
ends,  the  acts  of  government,  but  for  its  means  also,  the 
system  of  agencies  and  operations  by  which  these  ends  are 
reached,  these  acts  performed.  One  great  design  of  govern 
ment  should.be  to  serve  as  a  grand  educational  establish 
ment  for  the  people,  to  call  out,  exercise,  and  train  their 
mental  activities.  Of  course,  the  highest  earthly  end  of  man's 
existence  is  the  full  harmonious  development  of  all  his  facul 
ties.  For  this  end  he  should  use  every  means  that  earth  and 
man  and  human  society  can  furnish  him.  Such  means  he  finds 
in  his  own  private  life,  its  interests  and  cares  and  duties  ;  they 
are  making  continual  demands  upon  his  energies,  and  giving 
them  the  strength  and  discipline  that  come  of  constant  exer 
cise.  But  the  community  in  which  he  lives  furnishes  a  wider 
field  ;  the  man  who  can  take  in  its  interests  and  provide  for 
them,  feel  its  cares,  discharge  its  obligations,  has  a  higher 
and  more  valuable  cultivation  ;  he  becomes  a  stronger,  wiser, 
better  man.  Now  go  as  far  as  you  can  go  in  this  way — let  a 
man  feel  that  his  country  with  its  millions  rests  in  part  on  him, 
that  he  has  a  substantive  influence  on  its  affairs,  that  he  must 
throw  that  influence  on  the  right  side,  that  he  must  gain  the 
information  and  insight  necessary  for  this  purpose — and  see 
how  far  you  have  widened  his  sphere  of  thought  and  action, 
and  what  a  powerful  stimulus  you  have  given  him  to  mental 
exertion.  This,  now,  is  an  object  never  to  be  lost  sight  of,  an 
object  of  the  highest  moment,  which  is  practically  disregarded 
in  every  absolute  government.  An  absolute  government 
may  provide  as  well  as  a  republic  for  the  material  wants  and 
interests  of  the  people  ;  but  the  absolute  government  holds 
them  in  tutelage,  and  calls  them  and  keeps  them  children  ; 
the  republic  holds  them  in  partnership,  treats  them  as  men, 
and  makes  them  men.  If  I  am  a  democrat,  it  is  on  this 
ground  ;  not  because  a  democracy  is  the  safest,  strongest, 
quickest  government,  but  because  it  is  the  manliest — it  is  a 
gymnasium  for  making  men,  strong-minded,  vigorous,  ac 
tive  men.  This  gymnastic  training  has  its  dangers,  its  pecu 
liar  difficulties  and  embarrassments  ;  but  the  advantages  are 
more  than  worth  the  risks.  It  must  be  a  gradual  training, 
which  does  not  at  any  time  impose  upon  a  people  more  than 


364  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

they  can  do,  which  goes  on  slowly  from  point  to  point,  in 
creasing  the  extent  and  difficulty  of  its  exercises  as  the  people 
advance  in  aptitude  and  strength. 

As  popular  self-government  exercises  the  mental  activities 
of  a  people,  so  these  activities,  if  general  and  strong,  require 
self-government  as  an  arena  for  their  development  and  train 
ing.  They  may  indeed  seek  and  find  for  themselves  some 
other  vent — as,  among  the  Spaniards  of  the  i6th  century,  in 
wandering,  adventure,  and  discovery  ;  or  as,  among  the 
Germans  of  the  present  century,  in  an  unprecedented  cultiva 
tion  of  literature  and  science.  Yet  even  here  among  the  Ger 
mans  we  find  this  mental  activity  bursting  the  bounds  within 
which  despotic  government  would  confine  it,  overflowing  into 
politics,  and  working  slowly  and  heavily  but  powerfully  to 
ward  the  republic  of  the  future.  You  may  find  thus  great 
mental  activity  under  a  despotism  ;  and  it  may  seem  peace 
able  enough  for  a  time  ;  but  there  is  always  clanger  ;  it  is  a 
subterranean  fire,  which  may  become  too  fierce  and  strong 
for  the  vent  that  is  left  open,  and  so  open  for  itself  a  vent  by 
some  great  shock  of  earthquake  that  shall  shatter  the  political 
edifice  to  its  foundations.  It  was  the  mental  activity  that  il 
luminated  France  with  wit  and  science  under  Louis  XV. 
which  shook  down  the  throne  of  his  successor  Louis  XVI. , 
and  buried  the  monarch  in  its  ruins.  It  was  the  mental  activity 
of  the  Elizabethan  age  that  broke  out  in  the  age  of  Charles 
into  open  resistance,  and  at  length  into  successful  rebellion.  If 
we  had  the  early  history  of  Greece,  we  should  probably  find 
that  the  mental  activity  which  produced  the  Homeric  Epos  in 
an  age  of  monarchy  was  soon  after  occupied  in  overthrowing 
monarchy  and  setting  up  republican  governments  throughout 
the  country.  You  may  think  of  the  Augustan  age  .at  Rome 
as  a  case  that  makes  against  me.  But  we  have  learned  to  re 
gard  the  Augustan  age  as  a  period  of  outward  show  but  real 
decline  ;  its  culture  was  not  the  result  of  a  genuine  popular 
progress,  an  original  movement  of  the  national  mind,  but  of 
an  imitative  fashionable  dilcttantei?m. 

If  we  ask  where  it  is  that  monarchy  has  been  permanent 
from  age  to  age,  from  the  beginning  until  now,  a  thing  undis 
puted  and  indisputable — the  answer  must  be,  In  the  East, 


REPUBLICANISM  IN  EUROPE.  365 

where  human  life  has  a  stereotype  character,  where  thought 
and  feeling  and  action  stiffen  in  their  moulds  and  grow  more 
and  more  solid  and  unyielding.  That  the  permanence  of 
monarchy  in  the  East  is  connected  with  this  want  of  free 
spontaneous  motion  in  the  Oriental  mind  seems  to  me  quite 
certain,  though  I  would  not  say  that  this  is  a  full  explanation 
of  the  fact.  There  is  a  mystery  about  it  which  has  not  yet 
been  penetrated — that  monarchy  should  be  so  universal  and 
indefeasible  in  the  East,  while  in  the  West  it  has  been  so 
fluxing  and  unstable.  But  in  the  East  monarchy  is  monarchy, 
worthy  of  the  name  ;  it  is  the  absolute  supremacy  of  a  single 
will.  That  will  may  be  subject  to  a  hundred  influences,  of 
court  or  camp,  or  priests  or  harem  ;  but  such  influences  are 
irregular  and  accidental  ;  they  do  not  belong  to  the  system, 
they  impose  no  constitutional  restriction.  The  enthronement 
of  a  single  will  as  the  all-controlling  centre  of  political  life  and 
action — that  is  the  one  political  idea  of  the  Eastern  world. 
This  absolutism  is  in  fact  essential  to  monarchy  as  a  perma 
nent  system.  If  a  constitutional  restriction  is  interposed,  it 
proves  that  the  king  is  a  king  no  longer  ;  that  a  power  has 
arisen  stronger  than  the  king,  able  to  limit  and  restrain  him — 
the  power  that  brought  in  the  restriction.  And  in  the  natu 
ral  course  of  things  this  power  goes  on  from  more  to  more 
till  it  becomes  predominant  in  the  state.  In  most  instances, 
this  first  encroaching  and  restricting  power  has  been  an  aris 
tocracy.  The  Homeric  king  was  supplanted  by  his  council  of 
chiefs.  The  old  Roman  king  was  supplanted  by  the  Senate 
of  the  Patricians,  who  reigned  more  despotically  than  the  kings 
themselves.  It  was  the  nobles  of  England  who  extorted 
their  great  charter  of  privileges  from  the  feeble  John. 

The  nobles  of  France  were  marching  on  to  the  same  ascend 
ency  when  the  monarchs  learned  the  art  of  pitting  them  against 
the  communes,  so  as  to  exhaust  them  both,  and  establish  that 
absolutism  which  rose  to  its  highest  glory  under  Louis  XIV. 
If  absolutism  is  to  be  overthrown  in  Russia,  it  will  not  be  by 
the  people,  who  are  devotedly  loyal  to  the  Czar,  but  by  the 
nobles,  who  have  long  been  and  still  are  disaffected  and  turbu 
lent,  ever  ready  to  engage  in  conspiracy  and  rebellion. 

The  gradual  decline  of  royal  power  from  steady  progres- 


366  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

sivc  encroachment  is  best  seen  in  the  political  history  of  Eng 
land.  We  cannot  here  trace  its  progress  ;  but  we  must  in 
quire  into  the  result  :  What  is  the  throne  in  England  ?  It  is 
a  political  nullity,  it  is  a  mere  titular  dignity,  it  is  a  name,  the 
shadow  of  a  name — stat  nominis  umbra — it  possesses  no  real 
authority,  no  substantial  strength.  It  is  like  an  old  oak  from 
which  the  heart  has  rotted  out,  which  stands  a  mere  shell, 
with  the  same  form,  but  not  the  same  strength  which  it  had 
of  old.  It  stands  while  the  air  is  calm,  but  it  will  go  down 
before  the  first  great  storm  ;  and  so  will  the  English  mon 
archy.  The  only  sure  support  of  a  monarchy  is  loyalty 
among  its  subjects  ;  this  is  sufficient,  and  this  is  essential. 
But  loyalty  must  itself  have  a  foundation.  What  foundation 
has  English  loyalty  ?  Loyalty  may  be  founded  on  the  person 
al  qualities  of  the  sovereign  :  on  his  superiority,  real  or  sup 
posed,  in  strength  or  courage  or  talents  or  character.  Doubt 
less  the  English  sovereigns  at  present  arc  worthy  and  respect 
able  people  ;  but  such  people  are  common  in  England ; 
something  more  than  this  is  necessary.  And  even  this  may 
not  continue  ;  it  is  little  more  than  twenty  years  since  George 
IV.,  a  worthless  debauchee,  vacated  the  throne.  Loyalty 
may  be  founded  on  the  possession  of  power  by  the  sovereign  ; 
and  this  is  most  commonly  its  main  foundation.  The  despots 
of  the  East  have  at  least  this  claim  on  the  devotion  of  their 
subjects  ;  it  is  reason  enough  for  being  loyal  to  a  man  if  he 
can  cut  your  head  off  when  he  pleases.  But  the  king  of  Eng 
land,  or  the  queen  of  England,  is  powerless,  and  is  coming 
to  be  more  and  more  recognized  as  such.  You  may  say  that 
the  king  is  still  head  of  the  State,  and  that  this  is  a  sufficient 
basis  for  loyal  feeling  ;  certainly,  if  he  were  really  so,  and  not 
a  mere  ornamented  figure-head  on  the  ship  of  state.  The 
real  head  is  the  real  sovereign  ;  and  that  is  not  the  king,  it  is 
the  House  of  Commons,  or  the  constituency  that  elect  the 
House.  What  then  are  the  props  of  English  loyalty  ?  They 
are  tradition  and  habit.  The  queen,  if  not  powerful  herself, 
is  descended  from  powerful  Tudors  and  Plantagenets,  and  the 
feeling  that  belonged  to  them  has  come  down  to  her,  a  tradi 
tion  and  a  habit.  Evidently  this  is  an  insecure  foundation  ; 
less  so  in  England  than  anywhere  else,  owing  to  the  peculiar 


REPUBLICANISM  IN  EUROPE.  367 

tenacity  of  the  people,  their  attachment  to  established  forms, 
their  submission  to  prescription  and  precedent.  Still,  it  is  in 
secure,  as  anything  must  be  which  is  founded  on  the  past  and 
has  no  root  in  the  present.  From  the  very  constitution  of 
our  nature,  the  present  must  in  the  end  prevail  over  the  past ; 
it  is  always  with  us,  and  cannot  be  overlooked  or  forgotten. 
This  English  loyalty,  resting  as  it  does  on  tradition,  could 
never  be  transferred  to  any  new  dynasty.  If  any  collision 
should  overthrow  the  present  reigning  house,  no  new  one 
could  be  established  in  its  stead  ;  the  idea  of  setting  up  Wel 
lington  as  king  or  Cobden  as  king  in  England  would  be 
simply  ridiculous.  Nor  is  such  a  collision  strongly  improba 
ble.  Suppose  that  an  ambitious  prince  should  arise,  who 
should  feel  the  degradation  of  his  situation,  and  attempt  to 
change  his  nominal  kingship  into  a  real  one.  The  result  would 
be  a  revolution,  in  which  the  princely  aspirant  must  fall,  as 
fatally  perhaps  as  Charles  I.,  and  with  no  hope  of  restoration 
for  his  family.  It  would  be  folly  to  undertake  to  say  when 
monarchy  shall  cease  in  England  ;  but  the  result  in  my  view 
is  inevitable,  and  probably  not  very  far  distant.  English 
royalty  has  come  to  a  minimum,  and  cannot  be  reduced  with 
out  being  destroyed.  The  situation  of  the  country,  the  dis 
tress  of  the  laboring  classes,  the  decline  of  manufacturing  and 
commercial  industry,  must  sooner  or  later  bring  about  a 
crisis.  The  abolition  of  royalty,  however,  will  involve  no 
essential  change  of  government,  for  in  substance  the  govern 
ment  is  already  republican. 

France  is  less  fortunate.  When  monarchy  was  swept  away 
there  wras  nothing  to  replace  it ;  no  republican  institutions  had 
existed  before  ;  and  it  was  not  possible  and  never  will  be 
possible  to  build  them  up  in  a  day,  so  to  build  them  up  as 
to  make  them  strong  and  permanent.  This,  however,  is  cer 
tain  :  that  loyalty  as  a  pervasive  national  sentiment  is  dead  ; 
and  therefore  no  substantial  monarchy  can  be  set  up  in 
France — neither  Bourbons,  Orleaners,  nor  Bonapartes  can  be 
for  any  long  time  sovereigns  of  France. 

Italy  is  notoriously  without  loyalty.  Every  throne  in  the 
peninsula  rests  on  a  basis  of  force,  and  is  essentially  a  tyranny. 
Spain  has  more  of  loyalty  ;  Germany  perhaps  still  more. 


368  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

Yet  any  one  who  should  compare  this  century  with  the  last, 
this  generation  with  the  last,  would  see  an  immense  and  most 
significant  change  in  Germany — a  change  which  is  sufficiently 
evinced  in  the  general  demand  of  the  German  states  for  con 
stitutional  governments. 

The  case  is  different  with  Russia  :  her  people,  half  ori 
ental  in  their  character,  have  a  perfectly  oriental  devotion  to 
the  person  of  their  emperor.  The  throne  in  Russia  is  secure, 
to  all  human  appearance,  for  a  long  time  to  come  ;  and  it  is 
the  only  secure  throne  in  Europe.  I  used  to  think  differently 
in  regard  to  this  whole  subject.  I  wrote  a  disputation  when 
in  college  to  show  that  the  progress  of  Europe  was  on  the 
whole  anti-republican.  But  the  evidence  is  too  strong  for 
me  ;  I  have  been  forced  to  acknowledge  and  recant  my  errors  ; 
I  am  coming  to  feel  more  and  more  that  the  present  is  an 
age  of  transition  ;  the  old  order  breaking  up,  the  new  one 
not  yet  established.  You  may  compare  it  with  the  two  cen 
turies  of  Grecian  history  between  established  monarchy  and 
established  republicanism.  Centuries  of  strife  and  tumult  and 
revolution  and  usurpation,  the  period  of  tyrants.  It  would 
not  be  strange  if  this  remarkable  feature  of  ancient  Greek 
history  should  reappear  in  Modern  Europe.  France,  indeed, 
has  already  seen  two  tyrants,  in  the  Greek  sense  of  the  word  ; 
men  who  raised  themselves  by  military  force  to  an  unconsti 
tutional  sovereignty.  In  this  sense,  Napoleon  Bonaparte  and 
Louis  Napoleon  are  of  the  same  class  with  Periander  of 
Corinth  and  Pisistratus  of  Athens.  Such  governments, 
founded  on  force  and  not  on  law,  cannot  be  permanent  ;  they 
can  last  at  most  only  one  or  two  generations,  and  will  at 
length  give  place  to  a  well-established  republicanism*  The 
same  progress  may  be  expected  in  Italy,  and  the  same  also 
in  Germany.  The  only  chance  here  is  that  the  existing  dy 
nasties  may  make  timely  concessions,  and  so  keep  themselves 
on  the  throne  until  men  are  prepared  for  complete  republican 
ism.  If  so,  these  countries  will  have  the  experience  of  Eng 
land  and  not  of  France — they  will  make  the  transition  from 
absolutism  to  republicanism  through  limited  monarchies,  and 
not  through  tyrannies.  '  Many  English  writers  have  spoken 
of  limited  monarchy  as  if  it  were  a  great  permanent  form  of 


DA  Y-DREAMING.  369 

government,  like  absolutism,  or  like  republicanism  ;  and  find 
it  unpardonable  in  the  ancients  that  they  did  not  adopt  it. 
Whereas  it  is  rather,  like  tyranny,  a  transition  form,  assumed 
in  the  course  of  a  nation's  progress,  but  wanting  the  condi 
tions  of  permanence,  and  subverted  at  length  by  the  natural 
operation  of  the  causes  that  produced  it.  We  have  passed 
through  this  stage  ;  and  it  was  a  fortunate  circumstance  for  us, 
as  it  saved  us  from  a  succession  of  military  tyrannies  such  as 
we  see  in  our  sister  republics  of  South  America,  which  had 
known  nothing  but  absolutism  up  to  the  time  when  they 
began  to  struggle  for  their  independence.  Limited  monarchy 
with  us  must  have'  grown  very  feeble  ;  for  the  crisis  of  the 
Revolution,  which  in  other  respects  made  no  great  change  in 
our  institutions,  was  sufficient  to  destroy  monarchy  among  us 
at  once  and  forever.  I  believe  that  any  great  crisis  in  Eng 
land  would  show  that  monarchy  has  but  little  more  tenacity 
there. 

The  general  tendency  of  things  in  Europe  appears  to  me 
certain  and  undeniable.  How  fast  that  tendency  is  advanc 
ing,  how  soon  it  will  reach  its  consummation,  I  for  one  will 
not  venture  to  predict.  Providence,  says  Guizot,  is  strangely 
and  fearfully  slow  in  its  great  enterprises. 

Neither  is  it  possible  to  say  what  is  ultimate.  Republican 
ism  I  believe  will  prevail  overall  western  Europe  ;  but  whether 
finally  or  forever  is  a  different  question.  There  have  been 
causes  gravitating  in  the  opposite  direction.  Rome  was  a  re 
public  ;  her  conquests  in  Italy,  Greece,  Africa,  her  great 
conquests  were  republics,  And  yet  Rome  became  a  mon 
archy,  the  greatest  that  the  world  has  ever  seen,  and  her  ex 
ample  has  done  more  to  sustain  monarchy  in  modern  Europe 
than  all  other  causes  put  together. 


6.    SHOULD    DAY-DREAMING  BE   INDULGED    IN  ? 

1853. 

THE  human  mind  moves  in  two  different  worlds — the  world 
of  reality,  and    the   world  of  illusion.      The  objects   of  the 
24 


370  CLASS  DECISIONS : 

former  are  matters  of  fact,  things  obvious  to  the  senses  or 
cognizable  by  logical  understanding,  susceptible  of  proof, 
certified  by  testimony  or  other  evidence  more  or  less  con 
vincing.  The  objects  of  the  latter  are  imaginations  and 
fancies,  sentiments  and  presentiments,  aspirations  and  en 
thusiasms.  They  are  not  apprehended  by  logical  under 
standing,  but  recognized  by  intuitive  perception  ;  certified, 
if  certified  at  all,  not  by  processes  of  reasoning,  not  by  argu 
ments  which  the  understanding  can  analyze  and  appreciate  ; 
whatever  warrant  of  truth  they  have  lies  in  their  native 
power  of  attraction,  in  the  response  which  they  call  out  from 
unperverted  feeling.  They  belong  thus  to  what  Tennyson 
calls  "  The  truths  that  never  can  be  proved." 

The  objects  of  the  first  are  substantial,  positive,  definite  in 
outline,  capable  of  being  described  by  precise  and  intelligible 
statements.  The  objects  of  the  last  are  vague  and  shadowy, 
admitting  no  exact  definition,  bright  often  as  rainbow  colors, 
but  like  these  without  distinct  boundaries,  melting  into  each 
other  by  insensible  gradations.  Passing  beyond  the  sphere 
of  sense,  transcending  the  experience  of  life,  often  laying 
hold  of  the  infinite,  they  have  no  finite  measures  by  which 
their  dimensions  may  be  ascertained,  and  their  forms  laid 
down  in  plot. 

I  have  called  these  two  the  worlds  of  reality  and  illusion 
rather  in  conformity  with  ordinary  views,  than  as  describing 
their  inherent  nature.  I  do  not  mean  to  represent  the  latter 
as  wholly  illusory.  It  may  be  that  our  ideas,  even  those 
which  we  regard  as  least  substantial,  have  a  root  in  verity, 
and  are  destined  to  be  realized  in  some  form,  in  other  spheres 
of  existence  and  under  other  conditions  of  being  ;  and  on  the 
other  hand,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  reality,  what  we 
call,  such,  what  presents  itself  as  such  to  our  senses  and  intel 
ligence,  does  after  all  conform  so  perfectly  and  exactly  as 
we  are  apt  to  suppose  to  the  absolute,  interior,  underly 
ing  reality  of  things  as  it  appears  to  the  view  of  God.  Do 
not  understand  me  as  assuming  the  attitude  of  a  Pyrrho- 
nist,  a  universal  skeptic,  calling  in  question  the  reality  of 
everything  which  is  generally  received  as  reality.  Our 
conceptions  of  the  external  world  and  of  the  properties  which 


DAY-DREAMING.  371 

belong  to  it  are  necessary  conceptions — not  only  that,  they 
are  necessary  beliefs  :  even  the  Pyrrhonist  cannot  help  be 
lieving  and  acting  on  the  belief  that  they  are  true,  that  they 
correspond  to  outward,  objective  reality.  It  is  the  height  of 
folly  to  reject  them,  not  to  act  upon  them,  to  think  of  seeing 
round  and  beyond  them.  And  yet  we  cannot  help  admitting 
there  may  be  something  beyond  them,  a  deeper  reality  to 
which  our  faculties  cannot  penetrate. 

Not  to  discuss  this  point,  let  us  go  back  to  our  two  worlds 
as  we  have  endeavored  to  describe  them.  They  belong,  I 
say,  to  every  rriind.  Perhaps  no  man  can  be  found  (unless 
wholly  insane)  who  confines  himself  exclusively  to  either  : 
none  so  absorbed  in  matter  of  fact  that  gleams  of  imagination 
and  enthusiasm  never  penetrate  the  crust  that  surrounds  him  ; 
and  none  so  devoted  to  imagination  and  enthusiasm  as  not 
sometimes  to  touch  the  terra  firma  of  substantial  realities. 
But  if  this  exclusive  attachment  to  one  or  the  other  sphere 
is  never  fully  carried  out,  we  occasionally  find  a  near  approx 
imation  to  it  ;  and  it  is  important  for  us  to  note  the  effects 
thus  produced  on  mind  and  character.  Rev.  Mr.  Hudson — 
Shakespeare  Hudson,  as  he  has  sometimes  been  called,  from 
his  lectures  on  Shakespeare — in  an  allusion  to  Dr.  Tyng's 
preaching,  described  it — rather  uncharitably,  I  fear,  and  un 
truly,  or  with  an  unwarrantable  exaggeration  of  truth— as 
"lean,  hard,  dry,  bloodless,  and  bilious."  These  words  de 
scribe  pretty  well  what  is  likely  to  become  the  character  of 
the  man  who  confines  himself  to  the  world  of  reality.  The 
spirit  of  life  evaporates,  and  the  residuum  is  stale  and  flat: 
the  finer  elements  of  character  give  place  to  the  coarser.  The 
graceful,  delicate,  generous  and  honorable  in  feeling  and  ac 
tion  are  connected  with  ideas  and  sentiments  that  lie  with 
out  the  sphere  of  plain  substantial  matter  of  fact.  Their 
springs  are  in  the  ideal  world  ;  if  cut  off  from  these,  they  dry 
up  and  disappear.  On  the  other  hand,  the  man  who  confines 
himself  to  the  world  of  illusion,  the  world  of  day-dreams, 
loses  robustness  and  power  of  action.  Dwelling  in  the  crea 
tions  of  his  own  mind,  without  practical  objects  to  call  out  his 
powers  in  vigorous  and  healthy  exercise,  he  is  something  like 
Hudibras's  sword,  ".whose  trenchant  blade, Toledo  trusty,  for 


3/2  CLASS  DECISIONS. 

want  of  using  k'a$  gtown  rusty,  and  ate  into  itself,  for  lack  of 
somebody  "to- 'hew  and  hack."  He  becomes  lachrymose, 
sentimental,  querulous,  and  declamatory.  His  enthusiasm 
runs  to  waste  for  want  of  objects.  Even  imagination  suffers 
by  being  deprived  of  food  which  it  finds  or  ought  to  find  in 
the  objects  of  the  real  world. 

We  see  then  that  both  these  worlds  are  essential  to  the  true 
development  of  mind  and  character.  The  man  does  best  for 
himself  who  keeps  strongest  hold  on  both  ;  who  combines 
sharp  perception  and  keen  enjoyment  of  practical  realities 
with  the  glowing  visions  and  high-soaring  aspirations  of  the 
day-dreamer  ;  who  walks  in  the  clear  light  of  the  common 
everyday  sun  that  rises  and  sets  for  all  men,  while  lighted 
inwardly  by  "  the  light  that  never  set  on  sea  or  shore,  the 
imagination,  and  the  poet's  dream."  But  it  is  necessary  to 
bear  in  mind  constantly  the  essential  distinctness  of  the  two 
worlds,  never  allowing  the  imagination  and  enthusiasm  to  in 
vest  their  objects  with  the  character  of  reality,  always  remem 
bering  that  air-castles  have  no  foundation  on  terra  firma,  and 
are  not  built  of  solid  brick  and  mortar.  This  is  a  besetting 
evil  of  day-dreamers,  and  most  fully  and  elaborately  illustrated 
in  the  immortal  prose  poem  of  Cervantes — Don  Quixote,  a  day- 
dreamer  who  confounds  the  two  worlds  of  illusion  and  reality. 

It  is  necessary  in  another  way  to  recognize  their  proper 
distinctness,  by  not  mixing  the  language  of  one  with  the 
business  of  the  other.  The  fault  or  weakness  to  which  I  refer 
is  perhaps  most  often  exhibited  in  Germany.  It  was  a  say 
ing  of  Richter's,  in  the  early  part  of  this  century  (in  the  times 
of  Napoleon),  that  to  the  British  belonged  the  empire  of  the 
sea,  to  the  French  of  the  land,  to  the  Germans  of  the  air. 
Their  kingdom  is  that  of  the  day-dreamer.  As  a  conse 
quence  one  often  finds  among  them,  both  in  literature  and  in 
life,  an  overflow  of  enthusiasm.  They  are  apt  to  mix  up  the 
business  of  common  life  with  expressions  of  enthusiastic  sen 
timent,  raptures  and  transport,  which  the  English  mind  can 
not  help  regarding  as  somewhat  ridiculous.  The  mixture  of 
transports  and  tea-drinking,  roast  beef  and  raptures,  appears 
to  it  incongruous  and  absurd.  The  English  perhaps  go  too 
far  in  the  opposite  direction,  excluding  the  sentimental  ele- 


...      .. 

IMMORTALITY.  373 

ment  from  everyday  life,  and  the  ordirl^^jbj^course  of  so 
ciety.  But  I  must  confess,  my  own  sympSSteBr^rrlf  with 
them.  This  day-dreamer  life  is  or  ought  to  be  an  inner  life  ; 
its  light  should  not  be  beacon  or  bonfire  for  public  gaze, 
but  hearth-fire  burning  in  the  penetralia  of  mind,  to  light  and 
warm  the  mental  home.  Its  objects  of  faith  and  hope,  its 
Lares  and  Penates,  if  you  choose  to  call  them  so,  are  too 
sacred  to  be  brought  into  rude  and  familiar  connection  with 
the  coarseness  and  trivialities  of  everyday  life.  A  man 
should  not  forget,  indeed,  in  the  midst  of  practical  life  and 
business,  that  he  has  this  inner  world  of  thought  and  feeling. 
Its  influence  thus  present  with  him  will  preserve  him  from  the 
unfeeling  coarseness  of  the  merely  practical  man.  But  there  is  a 
great  difference  between  this  and  an  open  exhibition  or  free 
public  display  of  the  inner  life  ;  a  great  difference  between 
showing  in  speech  or  action  that  one  has  feeling,  and  talking 
long  or  loud  about  one's  feelings.  It  is  the  latter,  not  the 
former,  that  violates  the  instinct,  and,  as  I  believe,  the  true 
and  proper  instinct,  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind. 

We  see  then  that  day-dreaming  is  not  only  not  detrimental 
to  intellectual  development,  but,  under  right  conditions  and 
control,  indispensable  to  the  best  mental  development. 

So  that  I  may  conclude  with  the  concluding  words  of 
Thekla  in  Schiller's  wonderful  lyric,  which  I  must  translate  at 
great  sacrifice  of  its  ethereal  beauty  : — 

"  Every  thought  of  beautiful,  trustful  seeming 
Stands  fulfilled  in  Heaven's  eternal  day  ; 
Shrink  not  then  from  erring  and  from  dreaming — 
Lofty  sense  lies  oft  in  childish  play." 


7.    CAN   IMMORTALITY   BE   SHOWN   FROM   THE   LIGHT 
OF   NATURE  ? 

1855. 

THE  obvious  fact  about  death  is,  that  a  certain  living  or 
ganism,  the  living  human  body,  in  connection  with  which 
certain  processes  or  functions  manifest  themselves — such  as 
respiration,  nutrition,  muscular  motion,  nervous  sensation, 


374  CLASS  DECISIONS  : 

perception,  volition — this  organism  becomes  disorganized, 
and  all  these  processes  or  functions  cease  to  be  manifested. 
Now  the  claim  of  immortality  may  be  based  on  one  or  the 
other  of  two  assumptions  :  either,  I.  the  same  organism  will 
be  reproduced  hereafter,  and  the  same  functions  or  part  of 
them  again  manifested  in  connection  with  it,  and  accompanied 
by  consciousness  of  continued  identity  ;  or,  2.  the  same  func 
tions  may  be  exercised  and  accompanied  by  consciousness 
of  identity,  though  not  connected  with  the  same  organism  as 
before  ;  may,  in  fact,  go  on  without  interruption,  without 
being  even  suspended  by  death,  though  no  longer  manifested 
to  us.  Take  an  illustration.  A  mill  is  an  organism — not  in 
deed  a  living  organism  ;  something  far  less  complex  and  mys 
terious  than  that,  but  still  an  organism — and  its  function  is 
grinding  corn.  The  mill  may  be  blown  down  by  a  hurri 
cane,  and  the  function  of  corn-grinding  ceases  to  be  mani 
fested.  But  perhaps  the  scattered  timbers  will  be  put  to 
gether  as  before,  and  the  same  mill  will  perform  the  same 
corn-grinding  function.  Or  perhaps  the  same  identical  corn- 
grinding  which  belonged  to  the  demolished  mill  may  be 
going  on  elsewhere  in  connection  with  another  mill,  unknown 
to  us,  or  in  connection  with  some  wholly  different  and  unim- 
agined  system  of  apparatus.  The  assumptions  in  reference 
to  the  mill  and  the  man,  it  may  be  conceded,  are  possible. 
But  the  prima facie  probability  is  against  them.  We  cannot 
entertain  them  even  as  probable,  until  supported  by  some 
positive  evidence.  I  know  there  are  some  who  deny  this, 
who  maintain  that  mortality  furnishes  no  presumption  even 
against  immortality,  that  the  certain  dissolution  of  the  organ 
ism  with  which  all  our  human  functions  are  connected,  and 
apparent  cessation  of  all  the  functions  connected  with  it — 
that  this  does  not  constitute  even  &  prima  facie  probability  of 
their  real  or  permanent  cessation.  I  cannot  take  the  same 
view  of  the  question.  To  me,  one  of  the  most  striking  proofs 
of  the  inherent  elasticity  of  the  human  mind,  its  irrepressible 
buoyancy,  is,  that  death  does  not  drive  it  to  despair  ;  that, 
with  such  fearful  indications  of  approaching  annihilation,  it 
dares  to  hope  for  immortality.  What  then  are  the  evidences 
of  immortality  which  can  countervail  the  opposite  presump- 


IMMORTALITY.  375 

tion  furnished  by  the  phenomena  of  physical  death  ?  I  think 
it  must  be  conceded,  as  to  most  of  them,  that  singly  they  are 
not  very  strong,  though  their  collective  force  may  be,  and  in 
my  judgment  is,  far  greater.  Let  us  pass  them  in  review,  or 
at  least  those  most  commonly  urged,  that  we  may  see  how 
far  from  decisive  they  are  when  separately  taken,  how  plausi 
bly  they  can  be  met  and  answered. 

And,  in  doing  this,  we  shall  assume  that  the  light  of  nature 
is  sufficient  to  prove,  notwithstanding  all  apparent  difficul 
ties,  both  the  wisdom  of  God  and  the  goodness  of  God.  If 
the  light  of  nature  does  not  prove  them,  no  light  can  ;  for  the 
strongest  proof  of  Christianity,  most  decisive  of  its  truth  as  a 
divine  system  of  revealed  religion,  is  its  conformity  to  our 
natural  reasonable  ideas  of  God  as  all-good  and  all-wise. 

Thus  it  is  said,  the  universal  belief  in  immortality  is  evi 
dence  of  its  truth.  We  answer  :  the  universal  belief  in  im 
mortality  proves  only  that  the  cause  from  which  it  springs  is 
universal.  But  this  cause,  it  is  said,  can  only  be  the  obvious 
truth  of  the  thing  believed  in.  We  answer  :  that  cannot  be 
obvious  truth  which  lies  so  far  remote  from  human  knowledge 
and  experience,  and  concerning  which  so  many  wise  men 
have  had  their  doubts.  Then  it  is  said,  we  must  believe  it  to 
have  come  as  an  original  divine  communication  to  the  parents 
of  our  race.  We  answer  :  there  is  no  proof  of  such  communi 
cation,  and  no  necessity  for  assuming  it.  The  universal  belief 
in  immortality  arises  from  the  universal  desire  for  it.  Our 
faith  is  often  the  child  of  our  wishes.  When  we  long  to  find 
something  true,  we  shut  our  eyes  to  all  opposing  evidence,  we 
dwell  constantly  upon  the  arguments  which  favor  it,  till  at 
length  our  judgment  is  satisfied,  our  belief  is  established. 

But,  it  is  said,  God  would  not  allow  us  to  have  such  desires, 
if  they  were  not  to  be  realized.  We  answer:  God  allows  us 
to  have  many  desires  which  are  never  realized.  Such  desires, 
though  not  directly  satisfied,  are  still  useful,  by  stimulating  to 
exertion,  by  developing  faculties,  or  in  some  other  way.  And 
even  so  in  this  case.  The  impulse  which  makes  us  desire 
immortality  is  not  only  useful  but  necessary.  For  love  of 
immortality  is  at  bottom  love  of  life.  We  cling  to  life  while 
we  can,  and  when  death  plucks  it  from  us,  we  cling  to  the 


3/6  CLASS  DECISIONS. 

hope  of  recovering  it,  Alcestis-like,  from  the  grasp  of  death. 
Now  the  love  of  life,  which  appears  also  as  the  love  of  immor 
tality,  is  essential  to  the  well-being  of  man  and  of  society, 
essential  even  to  their  being  at  all.  If  love  of  life  were  ex 
tinguished,  the  world  would  come  to  an  end.  Again  it  is  said, 
the  mind  of  man  does  not  attain  its  perfect  development  on 
earth.  We  answer  :  it  is  not  the  order  of  nature  that  every 
thing  should  have  perfect  development.  Thus  of  plants,  how 
many  perish  in  the  earlier  stages  of  growth,  how  many  are 
dwarfed  and  stunted  by  unfavorable  circumstances,  by  barren 
soil,  ungenial  climate,  by  ravages  of  insects,  and  a  thousand 
other  causes  :  how  few  probably  attain  the  highest  perfection 
of  which  they  are  in  their  own  nature  capable  !  So  it  is  with 
the  physical  constitution  of  man  and  beast ;  so  it  is  with  the 
mental  faculties  of  brutes.  Not  every  dog  or  elephant  is  al 
lowed  to  cultivate  to  the  utmost  the  often  wonderful  sagacity 
and  intelligence  with  which  he  is  endowed  by  the  Creator. 
Would  you  have  an  immortality  for  each  and  all  of  these,  that 
they  may  come  to  their  maximum  development  ?  But  again 
it  is  said,  there  are  in  nature  analogies  for  immortality,  the 
germination  of  seed  after  its  rotting  in  the  ground,  the  trans 
formation  of  insects,  the  phenomena  of  sleep  and  fainting. 
We  answer  :  there  are  no  analogies  in  nature  for  life  after 
death;  i.  c.  for  continuance  of  the  function,  after  the  organism 
on  which  it  depended  has  become  disorganized.  Grind  the 
seed,  and  it  will  never  germinate  ;  crush  the  chrysalis,  and 
no  butterfly  will  burst  from  it.  Dr.  Beaumont's  man  digested 
his  food,  though  he  had  lost  a  bit  of  his  stomach  ;  but  could 
digestion  have  continued  if  the  whole  stomach  had  perished  ? 
A  man  may  feel  and  think  with  only  a  part  of  his  brain  ;  but 
can  thought  and  feeling  go  on  without  any  brain  at  all  ? 

This  brings  us  to  what  is  generally  thought  the  strongest  ar 
gument  for  a  post-mortem  existence  :  viz.  the  immateriality  of 
the  soul.  Thought  and  feeling,  it  is  said,  are  not  attributes  of 
bodily  organism,  but  attributes  of  something  very  different, 
something  which  uses  bodily  organism  for  its  various  purposes  ; 
especially  for  communicating  with  other  somethings  like  itself. 
Of  course,  when  its  instrument  gives  out,  it  can  no  longer 
make  such  communication  to  others,  but  it  is  not  impaired  in 


IMMORTALITY. 


377 


its  own  inherent  powers  and  activities.  Now  I  am  far  from 
denying  the  immateriality  of  the  soul,  yet  I  think  this  harder 
to  prove  than  its  immortality.  That  which  is  used  as  proof 
of  immortality,  the  premise,  is  more  difficult  to  be  established 
than  the  conclusion.  The  question,  observe,  is  not  whether 
thought  and  feeling  are  material  ;  they  are  attributes,  and  of 
course  immaterial;  but  the  question  is,  whether  the  substance 
to  which  the  attributes  belong  is  material  :  i.  e.  whether  it  is 
the  same  substance  which  possesses  the  attributes  of  gravity, 
impenetrability,  and  the  like.  Now  it  is  said,  these  two  sets 
of  attributes  are  so  different — thought  and  feeling  on  the  one 
hand  and  gravity  and  impenetrability  on  the  other — that  we 
cannot  suppose  them  to  inhere  in  the  same  substance.'  This 
is  the  great  argument,  in  fact  nearly  the  whole  argument,  for 
immateriality.  But  it  is  greatly  weakened  by  the  fact  that  in 
regard  to  substance  we  know  nothing  whatever,  can  know 
nothing  whatever,  except  that  certain  attributes  belong  to  it. 
What  its  internal  nature  and  constitution  may  be  we  know 
not ;  what  its  capacity  for  taking  on  other  widely  different 
attributes  may  be,  we  know  not.  The  organic  life  of  a  plant 
is  something  very  different  from  gravity  and  impenetrability. 
That  subtle  and  mysterious  activity  which  converts  shapeless 
water  and  lime  and  potash,  the  materials  of  the  dung-hill,  into 
beautiful  structures  of  leaf  and  flower  and  fruit,  is  surely  very 
different  from  the  ordinary  properties  of  matter.  Shall  we  in 
fer,  then,  that  the  life  of  a  plant  is  not  an  attribute  of  the  mat 
ter  composing  it,  that  the  plant  has  an  immaterial  soul  ?  Or, 
if  we  shrink  from  this,  where  shall  we  begin  to  find  the  imma 
terial  soul  ?  Is  it  in  the  sponge,  which  occupies  the  debatable 
border  between  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms  ;  in  the 
polyp,  which  is  stomach  only,  a  membranous  bag — you  may 
turn  him  inside  out,  and  he  will  live  as  well  as  before  ;  in  the 
tape-worm,  which  you  may  cut  into  twenty  pieces,  and  each 
will  live  for  itself,  twenty  souls  carved  out  of  one  ;  in  the  bi 
valve, which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  allowing  water  to 
stream  through  his  pulpy  body,  making  his  living  by  digest 
ing  the  animalcules  it  contains  ?  All  these  have  properties 
very  different  from  the  ordinary  attributes  of  matter  ;  proper 
ties  which  pass  by  insensible  gradations,  as  you  ascend  the 


378  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

scale  of  being,  to  the  complex  mental  phenomena,  thought, 
feeling,  and  intelligence,  of  the  dog  or  elephant.  Shall  we 
give  them  all  immaterial  souls,  and  wonder  whether  human 
arithmetic  can  enumerate  the  spiritual  units  contained  in  that 
stratum  of  mosquitoes,  twenty  feet  thick,  which  has  rested  for 
ages  on  the  banks  of  the  Orinoco  ?  Now  I  say  these  things, 
not  as  denying  the  immateriality  of  the  soul,  but  to  show  how 
little  it  can  be  depended  on  as  a  positive  argument  for  immor 
tality.  On  the  other  hand,  the  materiality  of  the  soul,  if  ad 
mitted,  is  far  from  a  decisive  argument  against  immortality. 
For  if  the  material  inheres  in  a  body  as  substance,  this  body 
may  eventually  be  reproduced  with  all  the  conditions  essential 
to  conscious  identity.  Or,  very  possibly,  the  substance  in 
which  the  material  soul  inheres  may  be  a  mere  attendant  form 
of  matter,  capable  of  existing  independently  of  the  body, 
though  not  capable  of  manifesting  itself  to  us  except  in  con 
nection  with  an  organic  body. 

I  have  thus  far  omitted  intentionally  what  seem  to  me  the 
two  weightiest  arguments  for  immortality — in  fact,  sufficient 
in  my  view  to  countervail  the  apparent  presumption  from  the 
phenomena  of  death  :  first,  the  apparent  disciplinary  char 
acter  of  human  life,  which  certainly  appears  like  a  course  of 
training  and  preparation  for  something  beyond  it,  and  be 
comes  much  more  intelligible  if  regarded  in  this  light ;  and 
second,  the  difficulty  of  reconciling  the  moral  order  of  the 
world  with  our  ideas  of  the  divine  justice,  natural  and  reason 
able  ideas  of  the  divine  justice,  if  human  existence  is  con 
fined  to  the  present  life.  This  difficulty  is  shown  very  strik 
ingly  in  the  two  books  of  the  Bible,  Job  and  Ecclesiastes.  It 
is  an  extraordinary  fact  that  the  Old  Testament  Hebrews, 
though  not  wholly  without  the  idea  of  existence  after  death, 
had  yet  no  distinct  idea  of  future  reward  and  punishment. 
An  extraordinary  fact,  I  say,  considering  that  the  Egyptians 
and  Phoenicians,  heathen  nations  around  them,  had  this  idea 
fully  developed,  and  ex'citing  a  powerful  influence,  especially 
on  the  Egyptians.  But  the  Hebrew,  in  his  habitual  conceptions 
as  seen  in  the  Old  Testament,  looked  for  manifestations  of 
divine  justice  in  this  life  without  reference  to  another.  It  is 
impossible,  however,  that  the  reflective  should  remain  per- 


VEGETABLE  DIET.  379 

manently  insensible  to  the  difficulties  of  this  view.  That  they 
did  not  remain  so  appears  from  those  two  books,  which  in 
fact  turn  upon  these  very  difficulties.  Both  probably  belong- 
to  the  later  books  of  the  Old  Testament  :  Job,  written  per 
haps  not  very  long  before  the  captivity  in  Babylon  ;  Eccle- 
siastes,  probably  some  time  after  the  return  to  Palestine.  In 
both,  the  great  burden  is  this  :  the  differences  of  human  life 
and  fortunes  do  not  correspond  to  differences  of  moral  char 
acter.  How  then  can  we  vindicate  the  justice  of  God,  and  the 
claims  of  duty  ?  In  Job  the  conclusion  is  :  God  is  strong 
and  wise  ;  man  is  weak  and  ignorant ;  presume  not  to  ques 
tion  where  you  cannot  understand.  In  Ecclesiastes  the  con 
clusion  is  :  virtue  on  the  whole  is  the  best  and  happiest  for 
this  life  ;  practise  it  with  moderation  of  desires  and  cheerful 
enjoyment — that  and  only  that  is  true  wisdom.  That  neither 
of  these  should  have  fallen  upon  the  solution  furnished  by 
the  doctrine  of  immortality  is  certainly  extraordinary,  and 
may  perhaps  go  to  show  that  the  natural  evidence  of  this  is 
not  so  clear  as  is  frequently  supposed.  That  is  my  own  be 
lief — that  the  light  of  nature,  when  all  directed  to  this  ques 
tion,  does  furnish  a  presumption  in  favor  of  immortality  ; 
but  not  so  strong  a  presumption  as  to  exclude  great  and 
reasonable  doubt  upon  the  subject. 


8.    IS   AN   EXCLUSIVELY    VEGETABLE    DIET   ADVANTAGEOUS  ? 

1856. 

A  VEGETARIAN  (dietarian)  book  was  written  by  a  Dr. 
Cheyne,  one  hundred  years  ago.  He  was  a  high  liver,  and 
tended  to  corpulency,  till  his  weight  rose  to  four  hundred 
pounds,  so  that  he  could  not  enter  a  coach  door.  He  then 
thought  it  time  to  retrench,  starved  himself  to  two  hundred 
pounds,  was  much  encouraged  by  success,  and  wrote  a  book 
on  the  advantages  of  starvation.  I  have  never  seen  it,  but  can 


380  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

easily  believe  it  useful  for  gentlemen  of  four  hundred  pounds 
weight,  who  cannot  enter  a  coach  door. 

The  dietetic  movement  in  this  country,  so  far  as  I  know, 
commenced  with  a  work  published  in  1827  by  President,  then 
Professor,  Hitchcock,  of  Amherst  College,  entitled  "  Dys 
pepsia  Forestalled  and  Resisted."  Dyspepsia  was  then  epi 
demic,  spreading  gradually  over  the  country  and  becoming  a 
fashionable  disease.  It  appeared  first  in  Boston,  and  travelled 
eastward.  The  doctors  in  Springfield  and  Hartford  were 
much  amused  when  they  first  heard  of  the  new  disease  in 
Boston  ;  they  thought  it  a  new  Boston  notion.  By-and-by  it 
came  to  Springfield  ;  the  Hartford  doctors  were  still  incre 
dulous.  Then  it  reached  Hartford,  and  the  Middletown  doc 
tors  thought  it  a  city  fashion.  But  they  got  it  themselves  in 
time,  as  country  people  get  all  city  fashions.  Dyspepsia  is 
now  on  the  decrease,  there  being  much  less  of  it  than  twenty 
years  ago. 

Dr.  Hitchcock  was  a  dyspeptic  in  the  palmy  days  of  dys 
pepsia,  when  the  disease  was  a  name  of  dread.  His  work 
made  a  great  sensation.  I  can  recollect  hearing  it  talked  of 
in  early  youth.  I  remember  well  the  astonishment  and  horror 
with  which  we  heard  that  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in 
the  United  States  ate  on  an  average  at  least  twice  as  much 
as  he,  she,  or  it  ought  to  eat.  Another  statement  I  remem 
berwas,  that  somebody  had  sustained  life  a  year  on  a  hen's 
egg  per  diem.  Anything  more  than  this,  it  was  implied, 
tended  to  evil.  They  may  have  drawn  the  argument  from 
the  Roman  description  of  dinner,  as  proceeding  ab  ovo  usque 
ad  mala. 

The  name  more  commonly  associated  with  the  vegetarian 
movement  in  the  popular  mind  is  that  of  Sylvester  Graham. 
His  abilities,  not  inconsiderable,  were  perhaps  more  than 
equalled  by  his  own  estimate  of  them.  If  any  man  ever  lived 
and  died  in  assured  confidence  of  posthumous  fame,  it  was 
he.  Though  neglected,  he  said,  by  contemporaries,  posterity 
would  do  him  justice.  There  was  really  some  good  reason 
for  hope.  His  name  will  be  in  many  mouths,  along  with 
his  bread  and  crackers.  These  articles  are  favorites  with  not 
a  few  who  neutralize  their  virtues  by  the  deleterious  decoc- 


VEGETABLE  DIET.  381 

tions  of  coffee  and  chocolate,  and  the  poisonous  poultry  or 
pastry,  swallowed  at  the  same  time.  He  had  some  ground 
of  complaint  against  his  contemporaries  and  neighbors,  who 
did  not  always  treat  him  with  proper  respect.  One  of  them, 
passing  his  house  one  morning,  saw  the  doctor  picking  up  a 
basket  of  chips  :  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "  baking-day  at  your  house  ?  " 
Dr.  Graham  was  much  offended,  but  without  remedy. 

Prominent  among  dietists  is  Dr.  Alcott,  the  author  of  sev 
eral  pleasantly  written  books,  and  conductor  of  the  monthly 
Library  of  Health.  In  the  latter,  I  remember  an  article  on 
mince-pie,  showing  that,  if  its  component  parts  were  to  ar 
range  themselves  in  the  stomach  each  by  itself  according  to 
its  specific  gravity,  there  would  be  no  less  than  eighteen 
layers  or  strata  in  the  stomach.  As  it  was  not  shown  that 
they  do  assume  any  such  stratification,  or  that,  if  they  did, 
harm  would  come  of  it,  the  argument  was  a  little  inconclusive. 

The  most  learned  man  among  vegetarians  was  Dr.  Mussey,  of 
Dartmouth,  afterward  of  Cincinnati.  It  is  said  that  he  made  him 
self  dyspeptic  by  high  living,  and  then  cured  himself  by  ab 
stemious  regimen — abstemious  in  quality,  I  mean  ;  for  the  quan 
tity  of  potatoes  he  consumed  was  astonishing  to  ordinary  eat 
ers.  His  dietetic  lectures  I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing.  They 
were  very  capital  lectures  :  quiet,  clear,  and  finished,  with 
plenty  of  anecdote  and  illustration,  and  with  a  certain 
dry,  quaint,  subdued,  but  caustic  humor,  peculiar  to  himself. 
His  wit  and  wisdom  were  too  much  for  a  youth  of  sixteen, 
and  I  must  confess  myself  to  have  been  carried  away  for  a 
time.  I  gave  up  tea  and  coffee,  beef  and  butter,  mince-pie, 
even,  for  a  month,  perhaps  ;  possibly  for  two  ;  quite  up  to  the 
average  length  of  his  conversions — and  then  went  back  to  the 
old  way,  adapted  my  principles  to  my  appetites,  and  have  so 
continued  to  this  day.  I  need  not  be  ashamed  of  being  con 
verted  to  vegetarianism  by  Dr.  Mussey,  for  it  is  said  that  the 
Doctor  himself  was  later  converted  from  vegetarianism  by  an 
Orang  Outang.  Two  of  those  mock  humanities  were*  put  on 
shipboard  for  this  country,  and  fed  of  course  on  vegetable 
food,  as  being  that  which  they  have  in  their  native  woods. 
One  fell  sick,  and,  in  spite  of  all  therapeutics,  died.  The 
other  also  sickened,  and  seemed  to  be  going  the  same  way 


382  CLASS  DECISIONS: 

as  his  companion.  One  day,  however,  his  chain  being 
loosened,  he  made  a  spring  for  a  table  not  far  off,  on  which 
was  a  roasted  chicken.  He  devoured  the  chicken  with  the 
greatest  eagerness,  and,  instead  of  languishing,  seemed  to 
feel  the  better  for  his  meal.  The  hint  was  taken,  the  same 
diet  was  continued,  and  the  fellow  reached  this  country  at 
length  in  capital  health  and  spirits.  Dr.  Mussey  laid  great 
stress  on  the  dietetic  habits  of  Orang  Outangs,  Chimpanzees, 
and  the  other  nearest  congeners  of  man  ;  and  it  is  said  that, 
hearing  these  facts,  he  gave  up  his  opposition  to  flesh  meats — 
whether  permanently,  I  am  not  informed. 

Two  faults  of  reasoning  are  to  be  observed  in  Dr.  Mus- 
sey's  lectures.  He  assumes,  first,  that  if  a  thing  is  injurious  in 
a  large  quantity,  it  is  injurious  also  in  a  small  quantity, 
though  in  a  less  degree  ;  if  a  pound  will  do  injury,  an  ounce 
will  do  a  sixteenth  of  the  same  injury.  Dr.  Mussey,  so  as 
serting  in  the  American  Temperance  Convention,  was  op 
posed  by  Bishop  Potter  of  Pennsylvania,  with  a  parallel  case. 
An  atmosphere  of  carbonic  acid  gas  would  kill  you  ;  and 
hence  the  minute  fractional  part  which  is  always  and  necessarily 
present  in  the  atmosphere  must  be  proportionally  deleterious. 
Second,  to  determine  the  wholesomeness  of  an  article  of  food, 
he  looks  at  its  effect  on  a  weak  stomach.  Again  and  again 
in  his  lectures,  he  says  of  a  particular  article  of  food  that  a 
weak  stomach  cannot  digest  it,  and  therefore  it  should  not  be 
used.  He  might  as  well  say  that,  as  weak  persons  cannot 
take  long  walks,  long  walks  are  fatiguing  and  exhausting  to 
the  physical  energy  ;  and  therefore  long  walks  should  not  be 
taken.  He  might  as  well  say  that  the  blacksmith  should  not 
use  his  sledge-hammer,  because  a  little  boy  would  break 
down  in  the  attempt  to  wielcl  it.  That  the  weak  should  rule 
the  strong,  the  healthy  stomach  submit  to  the  unhealthy,  is 
against  the  law  of  nature.  Let  dyspeptics  legislate  for  them 
selves,  but  let  them  not  seek  to  establish  a  dyspeptic 
despotism  over  the  eupeptic  world. 

The  principal  argument  of  the  vegetarian  is  that  man's  phy 
sical  organization  is  analogous  to  that  of  herbivorous,  not  car 
nivorous  animals.  There  is  no  doubt  that  our  teeth,  our  sto 
mach,  and  our  alimentary  canal  are  widely  different  from  those 


VEGETABLE  DIET.  383 

of  the  dog-  or  wolf;  and  it  is  a  fair  inference  that  dog's  meat 
is  not  proper  for  us.  But  what  is  a  dog's  meat,  adapted  to 
his  teeth  and  stomach,  adapted  to  his  active  habits  and  in 
stinct?  It  is  raw  flesh.  The  dog  wants  flesh,  and  cannot 
cook  it  ;  he  will  take  it  raw  ;  and  for  this  he  is  fitted  by  his 
physical  organization.  The  vegetarians  resolutely  ignore  the 
effects  of  cookery,  not  noticing  that  a  similar  argument  could 
be  used  against  their  favorite  diet.  For  we  might  say  that,  as 
raw  potatoes  are  unwholesome,  the  use  of  potatoes  as  food 
should  be  discarded. 

Examples  are  brought  to  show  that  the  highest  degree  of 
physical  vigor  can  be  maintained  without  animal  food.  The 
strongest  case  is  the  story  told  by  traveller  Buckingham,  of 
powerful  fellows  from  Nepaul,  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Hima 
laya,  who  had  come  down  to  Calcutta  to  exhibit  feats  of 
strength.  They  were  matched  against  British  sailors,  and 
were  always  superior.  The  Indian  athletes  are  restrained  by 
their  religion  from  eating  flesh  meat,  of  which  the  British  sailor 
makes  free  use.  There  is,  perhaps,  some  room  for  doubt,  but 
two  things  may  be  said  of  the  comparison  :  first,  the  inclina 
tion  and  necessity  for  meat  is  far  less  within  the  tropics  than 
without  ;  and  second,  warm  climates  are  far  more  enervating 
to  men  of  northern  origin  than  to  the  native  of  India. 

The  Scripture  argument  which  the  vegetarians  bring  for 
ward  is,  that  in  the  grant  to  Adam  only  vegetable  food  is 
named,  no  animal.  The  omission  is  probably  not  accidental, 
for  the  idea  of  maintaining  life  by  the  slaughter  of  animals  is 
repugnant  to  our  conceptions  of  the  Paradisiac  state  ;  but  the 
whole  condition,  physical,  spiritual,  and  moral,  of  the  Paradi 
siac  world  is  so  different  from  that  of  the  actual,  that  no  argu 
ment  can  be  drawn  from  it.  In  the  grant  to  Noah,  animals 
are  allowed  as  food  ;  but,  as  the  vegetarians  say,  only  because 
men  would  have  it — like  divorce  in  the  Mosaic  law,  allowed 
on  account  of  the  hardness  of  men's  hearts.  Only,  cookery  is 
required  ;  since  this  is  supposed  to  be  meant  by  "flesh  with 
the  life  thereof,  which  is  the  blood,  them  shalt  not  eat."  Still, 
though  cookery  diminished  the  evil,  human  life,  under  the  de 
leterious  diet,  fell  off  from  Methuselah's  nine  hundred  and 
sixty-nine  years  to  the  threescore  and  ten  of  the  Psalmist. 


384  CLASS  DECISIOA^S.  ' 

The  hope  is  that,  by  going  back  to  Methuselah's  Graham 
bread  and  potatoes,  we  shall  gradually,  in  the  course  of  gen 
erations,  get  back  to  his  longevity — the  new  millennium  of  life 
on  earth. 

We  have  never  been  much  troubled  with  vegetarian  fanati 
cism  here,  but  in  some  places  it  has  been  mischievous.  It  has 
often  happened  that  a  young  man  has  got  an  idea  that  the  less 
he  eats,  the  better  for  him,  and  so  has  confined  himself  to 
brown  bread,  and  a  minimum  allowance  even  of  that.  If  very 
strong,  he  bears  up  under  it,  until  he  overlives  his  delusion, 
or  is  brought  by  appetite,  example,  or  custom,  into  the  ordi 
nary  way.  But,  if  not  strong,  he  sinks  under  it,  and  especi 
ally  if  he  has  any  tendency  to  constitutional  disease ;  which 
there  is  nothing  more  likely  to  develop.  I  have  in  mind  the 
case  of  an  excellent  young  man,  Avho  in  my  belief  hastened, 
if  he  did  not  cause,  his  own  death  in  this  way. 

Students  need  animal  food  not  less  than  laboring  men  ; 
rather,  more  ;  they  do  not  need  more  of  it,  but  they  have  more 
need  of  it.  A  man  who  can  digest  a  peck  of  potatoes  at  a 
time  can  live  upon  potatoes  alone,  for  he  can  get  enough  nutri 
ment  to  sustain  life  and  vigor.  But  the  less  hardy  stomach 
requires  more  concentrated  diet,  so  as  to  have  nutriment 
enough  without  being  overloaded. 

If  I  were  to  legislate  on  diet  and  regimen,  my  rules  would 
be  few  and  simple.  In  regard  to  exercise,  take  a  good  deal 
of  it,  unless  from  early  days  accustomed  to  a  very  sedentary 
life  ;  but  not  too  soon  after  eating  a  hearty  meal. 

In  regard  to  eating — eat  what  you  want ;  eat  nice  things, 
eat  as  much  as  you  want  of  them,  unless  you  find  by  clear 
experience  that  something  disagrees  with  you  ;  but  eat  only 
at  meal  times,  and  take  no  meals,  edible  or  potable,  late  at 
night.  And,  last  not  least,  trust  to  your  stomach  ;  do  not 
be  continually  watching  over  it  and  criticising  it,  but  believe 
it  will  get  along  without  your  help  ;  and,  above  all,  think  as 
little  as  possible  about  your  diet. 


XIX. 

ON   THE   HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY   FROM    MOSES 
TO    SOLOMON. 

1857. 

\  ^  7E  find  in  the  first  book  of  Kings,    sixth  chapter  and 
V  V   first  verse,  a  definite  chronological  statement,  assigning 
the  interval  in  years  between  the  departure  of  the  Israelites 
from  Egypt  and  the  commencement  of  work  in  the  erection  of 
Solomon's  temple.      "  And  it  came  to  pass  in  the  four  hundred 
and  eightieth  year  after  the  children  of  Israel  were  come  out 
of  the  land  of  Egypt,  in  the  fourth  year  of  Solomon's  reign 
over    Israel,  in  the    month  Zif,    which  is  the  second    month, 
that  he  began  to  build  the  house  of  the  Lord."     In  this  pas 
sage,  however,  the  Septuagint  version,  the  oldest  and  beyond 
comparison  the  most  important  of  the  versions,  presents  us 
with  a  different  number — four  hundred   and  forty  years,  in 
stead   of   four  hundred  and  eighty.      This   is  a   remarkable 
variation,  and  we  shall  have  occasion  to  return  to  it  in  the 
sequel.     At  present,  it  is  enough  to  observe  that  the  number 
of  our   Hebrew  text   is   unquestionably  ancient,    since  it  ap 
pears  in  other  ancient  versions  ;  it  appears,  indeed,  in  all  the 
other  ancient  versions  which  were   made  directly   from  the 
Hebrew  ;  we  may  therefore  fairly  conclude  that  in  the  early 
centuries   of  our  era,  when  those   versions    were    made,    the 
number  four  hundred  and  eighty  was  the  general  and  current 
reading  of  the  Hebrew  manuscripts.     Whatever  discrepancy 
may  have  existed  among  MSS.  in  the  earlier  period  of  the 
LXX.  translators,   the  number  four  hundred  and  eighty  had 
apparently  become  the  approved  and  established  reading. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact,  however,  that  this  number,   four 
hundred  and  eighty  years,  for  the  interval  between  the  Exo 
dus  and  the  building  of  the  temple,  is  at  first  view  inconsist 
ent  (and  the  smaller  number  of  the  LXX.  would  still  more  be 
25 


3  86  HEBRE  W  CHR  ONOL  OGY. 

inconsistent)  with  the  particular  designations  of  time  scatter 
ed  through  the  earlier  historical  books  of  the  Old  Testament. 
Let  us  look  at  these  numbers,  in  the  order  of  the  Biblical 
history.  First,  for  the  prolonged  desert  wanderings  under 
the  lead  of  Moses,  which  followed  the  Exodus  from  Egypt, 
the  Pentateuch  assigns  a  period  of  forty  years.  Next,  the 
book  of  Joshua  (xxiv.  31)  informs  us  that  "  Israel  served  the 
Lord  all  the  days  of  Joshua  and  all  the  days  of  the  elders  that 
overlived  Joshua,"  but  does  not  assign  any  definite  term  of 
years  for  the  days  of  Joshua  himself,  or  for  those  of  the  sur 
viving  elders.  After  those  unassigned  periods,  the  chronolo 
gy  of  the  book  of  Judges  opens  with  the  first  apostasy  of  the 
Hebrew  people — or  rather,  with  the  punishment  which  follow 
ed  that  apostasy.  In  this  book  we  find  the  following  series 
of  numbers,  which,  according  to  the  obvious  appearance  and 
natural  impression  of  the  work,  if  not  according  to  its  real 
intent,  denote  successive  periods  of  time  : — 

YK3. 

Servitude  under  Chushan  Rishathaim,  king  of  Mesopotamia. ...  8 

Deliverance  by  Othniel,  son  of  Kenaz,  and  subsequent  rest.  ...  40 

Servitude  under  Eglon,  king  of  Moab 18 

Deliverance  by  Ehud,  son  of  Gera,  and  subsequent  rest 80 

Ascendency  of  Shamgar,  son  of  Anath,  time  not  stated 

Oppression  of  Jabin,  king  of  Canaan,  who  reigned  in  Hazor.  ...  20 

Deliverance  by  Deborah  and  Barak,  and  subsequent  rest 40 

Oppression  by  the  Midianites 7 

Deliverance  by  Gideon,  and  subsequent  rest 40 

Reign  of  Abimelech,  son  of  Gideon 3 

Tola,  son  of  Puah,  a  man  of  Issachar,  judges  Israel 23 

Jair,  a  Gileadite,  judges  Israel .  22 

Oppression  by  the  Ammonites 1 8 

Deliverance  by  Jephthah  the  Gileadite,'  who  judges  Israel 6 

Ibzan  of  Bethlehem  judges  Israel 7 

Elon,  a  Zebulonite,  judges  Israel 10 

Abdon,  son  of  Hillel,  a  Pirathonite,  judges  Israel 8 

Oppression  by  the  Philistines 40 

Samson,  son  of  Manoah,  judges  Israel 20 

In  regard  to  this  last  number,  it  is  not  certain  that  the  writer 
intended  to  represent  the  twenty  years  of  Samson  as  succeed 
ing  the  forty  of  Philistine  oppression  :  for  his  language  is, 
Samson  "judged  Israel  in  the  days  of  the  Philistines  twenty 


HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY.  387 

years."  It  is  possible,  therefore,  that  he  conceived  of  Sam 
son's  twenty  years  as  included  in  the  forty  of  Philistine  op 
pression.  However  this  may  be,  it  is  the  only  instance  in 
which  the  language  of  the  book  lends  any  plausible  color  to 
the  assumption  that  the  times  above  stated  are  not  to  be  re 
garded  as  successive  each  to  the  preceding.  Let  us  suppose 
for  the  present  that  the  twenty  here  was  thought  of  as  follow 
ing  the  forty  ;  and  let  us  add  together  the  whole  series  of 
numbers  presented  by  the  book,  from  the  invasion  of  Chu- 
shan-rishathaim  to  the  death  of  Samson.  We  obtain  an  ag 
gregate  of  four  hundred  and  ten  years,  with  an  uncertain 
blank  for  the  time  of  Shamgar,  the  successor  of  Ehud.  If, 
now,  to  this  four  hundred  and  ten  we  add  forty  years 
for  Eli,  who  according  to  I.  Samuel  iv.  18  judged  Israel 
forty  years,  we  have  a  total  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  years 
for  the  period  of  the  Judges,  as  reckoned  from  the  first 
chronological  indication  in  the  book  of  that  name  on  to  the 
opening  of  Samuel's  judgeship.  Now  in  Acts  xiii.  20,  we 
find  Paul  in  the  synagogue  of  Antioch,  while  describing  in 
brief  outline  the  early  history  of  his  people,  saying  that  God 
"  gave  unto  them  judges  about  the  space  of  four  hundred  and 
fifty  years  until  Samuel  the  prophet."  This  is  an  important 
passage,  not  only  as  showing  that  the  numbers  which  now 
appear  in  the  book  of  Judges  stood  there  in  the  first  century 
of  our  era,  but  also  because  it  proves  that  they  were  then  re 
garded  as  designating  consecutive  periods  of  time.  For,  ac 
cording  to  the  only  natural  and  unforced  interpretation  of  the 
apostle's  words,  they  assign  the  duration  of  a  period  during 
which  God  was  giving  judges  to  his  people,  a  period  begin 
ning  at  the  time  when  he  began  to  give  them  judges,  and 
ending  with  the  accession  of  the  prophet  Samuel.  And  the 
duration  assigned  for  this  period,  viz.  four  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  is  precisely  that  which  results  from  the  numbers  in 
Judges  and  Samuel,  on  the  supposition,  which  is  strongly 
favored  if  not  absolutely  required  by  the  language  of  those 
books,  that  the  numbers  stand  not  for  contemporaneous  but 
for  successive  times. 

The  death  of  Eli  was  followed  by  the  judgeship  of  Samuel 
and  the  kingship  of  Saul.      For  these,  no  term  of  years  is  as- 


388  HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 

signed  in  the  Old  Testament  narrative.  Paul,  however,  in 
the  address  just  quoted,  says  (Acts  xiii.  21)  that  when  the 
Israelites  desired  a  king,  "  God  gave  unto  them  Saul  the  son 
of  Cis,  a  man  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin,  by  the  space  of  forty 
years."  It  is  possible  that  this  term  of  forty  years  may  have 
been  intended  to  cover  the  whole  interval  from  the  close  of 
the  four  hundred  and  fifty  years  mentioned  just  before  to  the 
accession  of  David,  which  is  mentioned  directly  after.  If  so, 
it  would  include  the  time  of  Samuel's  ascendency,  as  well  as 
that  of  Saul's  dominion.  To  David,  the  Old  Testament  it 
self  ascribes  a  reign  of  forty  years.  If  we  add  this  forty  and 
the  forty  years  of  wandering  in  the  desert  to  the  sum  of  four 
hundred  and  fifty  before  obtained  for  the  Judges,  we  have  an 
aggregate  of  at  least  five  hundred  and  thirty  years  between 
the  Exodus  and  Solomon,  or  fifty  years  more  than  the  four 
hundred  and  eighty  named  in  I.  Kings  vi.  i.  We  might, 
indeed,  avail  ourselves  of  the  doubt  in  regard  to  Samson,  and, 
by  reckoning  his  twenty  years  of  judgeship  under  the  forty 
years  of  Philistine  oppression,  might  reduce  our  aggregate  to 
five  hundred  and  ten.  But  even  this  is  thirty  years  beyond 
the  mark  of  I.  Kings  ;  and  it  must  be  still  further  increased, 
when  we  come  to  consider  the  two  certain  and  important  gaps 
in  our  series,  one  for  Joshua  and  the  elders  after  him,  the 
other  for  Samuel  and  Saul. 

The  statement  in  the  book  of  Acts  gives  forty  years  appa 
rently  to  Saul  alone,  though  meant  possibly  both  for  Samuel 
and  Saul.  At  all  events,  we  could  not  allow  less  than  fifty 
years  to  Joshua  and  the  elders,  Saul,  and  Samuel  together. 
We  should  thus  swell  our  aggregate  to  an  amount  exceeding 
by  eighty  or  one  hundred  years  the  interval  assigned  by  the 
writer  in  I.  Kings.  A  discrepancy  at  once  so  obvious  and  so 
large  could  not  fail  to  attract  attention.  Much  effort  and  in 
genuity  have  been  expended  in  harmonizing  the  discordant 
statements.  The  methods  which  have  been  suggested  for 
this  purpose,  though  considerably  numerous,  rest  for  the 
most  part  upon  the  same  leading  assumptions.  These  are  :  i. 
that  the  number  four  hundred  and  eighty  years  given  in  I. 
Kings  must  be  accepted  as  the  true  and  exact  statement  of  the 
interval  in  question  ;  and  2.  that  the  period  apparently  in- 


HEBRE  W  CHR  ONOL  OGY.  389 

eluded  in  the  book  of  Judges  must  be  shortened  by  making 
the  times  in  that  book,  not  all  successive,  but  more  or  less 
contemporaneous.  I  do  not  propose  to  criticise  these 
schemes,  or  any  one  of  them,  in  detail.  But  two  or  three  re 
marks  may  be  made  which  are  applicable  to  all  :  I.  In  itselt 
it  is  not  by  any  means  improbable,  but  rather,  considering  the 
disordered  state  of  Palestine  after  the  Hebrew  conquest,  the 
imperfect  subjugation  of  the  old  inhabitants,  the  isolation  of 
the  different  tribes,  the  want  of  national  centres,  of  common 
government  and  of  concerted  action — considering  these  facts, 
I  say,  we  must  acknowledge  it  as  not  improbable  that  the 
different  parts  of  the  country  were  subject  to  different  for 
tunes,  that  they  were  oppressed  at  the  same  time  by  different 
assailants,  were  delivered  by  the  heroic  conduct  of  different 
chiefs,  and  recognized  the  authority  of  different  judges.  In 
itself,  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  oppressions,  deliverances, 
authoritative  judgeships,  described  in  the  book  of  Judges,  were 
partial  and  not  general  ;  confined  each  to  particular  sections 
of  the  people,  and  'going  on  contemporaneously  in  different 
portions  of  the  land.  To  such  an  extent  might  we  concede 
this,  without  any  violation  of  historic  probability,  as  to  reduce 
the  period  of  the  Judges  even  more  than  is  required  to  har 
monize  its  chronology  with  the  statement  in  I.  Kings.  2. 
Nevertheless,  this  view  of  the  events  recorded  in  the  book  of 
Judges,  as  if  they  were  partial  and  contemporaneous,  seems 
scarcely  consistent  with  the  conception  of  the  writer.  From 
beginning  to  end,  from  the  oppression  of  the  Mesopotamian 
king  to  the  heroic  death  of  the  Danite  champion,  he  treats 
the  people  as  a  whole.  As  a  people  they  apostatize  from  the 
Lord,  as  a  people  they  are  punished  by  oppressive  invasion, 
as  a  people  they  return  to  the  Lord  with  repentance  and 
confession,  as  a  people  they  receive  deliverance  from  the 
foreign  yoke  and  submit  to  the  authority  of  the  deliverer. 
The  more  we  read  the  book,  and  the  more  attentively  we 
study  its  plan  as  announced  in  the  second  chapter  and  car 
ried  out  in  the  sequel,  the  more  strong  becomes  our  impres 
sion  that  the  writer  in  his  own  view  is  recording  a  series  of 
national  judgments,  which  fall  successively  for  good  and  for 
evil  on  the  whole  Hebrew  nation,  the  children  of  Israel.  In 


390  HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 

passing  from  one  to  another,  he  almost  invariably  uses  lan 
guage  which  implies  succession.  The  only  exception  is  at 
the  beginning  of  the  sixth  chapter,  where  he  says  :  "  and 
the  children  of  Israel  did  evil  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord." 
Though,  even  here,  the  connection  would  seem  to  show  con 
clusively  that  he  views  this  evil-doing  as  subsequent  to  the 
rest  which,  according  to  the  previous  verse,  the  land  (that  is, 
the  whole  land  —  there  is  nothing  to  suggest  the  idea  of  apart) 
had  enjoyed  for  forty  years.  But  everywhere  else  he  says 
"  and  the" children  of  Israel  did  evil  again  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord  ;  "  thus  marking  their  conduct  as  a  succeeding  and  later 
instance  of  apostasy.  So  he  says:  "  And  after  Abimelech 
there  arose — Tola;"  "And  after  him  arose  Jair  ;  "  "And 
after  him  (Jephthah)  Ibzan  judged  Israel;"  "And  after  him 
Elon  ;  "  "  And  after  him  Abdon."  We  cannot  be  surprised, 
therefore,  when  we  find  St.  Paul  assigning  as  the  period  of 
the  Judges  a  number  of  years  equal  to  the  aggregate  of  all  the 
numbers  contained  in  this  book  (increased,  of  course,  by 
Eli's  forty  years),  as  if  the  events  and  conditions  to  which 
they  belong  were  all  successive.  3.  The  schemes  referred  to 
rest  upon  no  positive  foundation,  and  have  no  absolute  prob 
ability.  At  most,  we  can  only  say  of  them,  it  is  possible 
that  things  may  have  taken  place  in  this  way.  The  com 
pleteness  with  which  they  solve  the  problem,  and  cut  down 
the  chronology  of  the  Judges  to  a  dimension  consistent  with  the 
statement  in  Kings,  is  far  from  being  decisiveasto  their  truth. 
For  the  problem,  by  the  nature  of  its  conditions,  is  essentially 
indeterminate — indeterminate  w7e  might  say  in  algebraic  lan 
guage,  because  there  are  more  unknown  quantities  than  fixed 
relations  between  them  ;  it  admits,  as  the  facts  show,  a  con 
siderable  variety  of  solutions,  and  might  equally  well  be  solved 
in  several  different  ways,  if  the  standard  number  were  as 
given  in  the  Septuagint,  four  hundred  and  forty  years,  instead 
of  four  hundred  and  eighty. 

But  4.  I  remark,  in  regard  to  these  attempts  at  reconcilia 
tion,  that  they  overlook  a  very  important  feature  in  the 
chronological  statements  which  they  propose  to  harmonize, 
and  must  therefore  of  necessity  fail  to  give  satisfaction.  By- 
taking  this  into  account,  we  may  hope,  not  indeed  to  arrive 


HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY.  391 

at  the  solution  of  the  problem,  but  at  least  to  throw  light  up 
on  its  nature  and  conditions. 

If  we  recur  to  the  series  of  numbers  which  we  before 
gave,  as  belonging  to  the  period  from  Exodus  to  Solomon, 
and  examine  them  attentively,  we  cannot  fail  to  be  struck 
with  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  number  forty.  It  stands 
for  the  wandering  in  the  desert,  the  rest  under  Othniel,  the 
rest  under  Deborah  and  Barak,  the  rest  under  Gideon,  the  op 
pression  of  the  Philistines,  the  judgeship  of  Eli,  and  the  king 
ship  of  David — that  is,  seven  times  in  a  series  of  twenty  one 
numbers,  or  once  in  every  three  numbers.  Now  this  circum 
stance  alone  is  enough  to  show  that  there  is  something  pecu 
liar  in  the  chronology  we  are  dealing  with.  Let  us  compare 
it  with  some  other  chronological  series — e.g.  the  reigns  of 
Solomon's  descendants,  the  kings  of  Judah.  Among  these 
we  may  omit  two  or  three  reigns  of  a  year  or  less — numbers 
so  small  could  hardly  find  place  in  the  more  sketchy  history 
of  the  earlier  times.  There  remain  seventeen  designations 
of  time,  of  which  we  find  forty  years  for  Jehoash  and  forty- 
one  for  Asa  :  only  two  in  the  seventeen  which  are  anywhere 
in  the  vicinity  of  forty.  Or,  let  us  look  at  the  sovereigns  of 
England  from  the  Norman  Conquest — thirty-four  in  number 
extending  through  eight  centuries,  and  including  an  uncom 
monly  large  proportion  of  long  reigns  :  here  we  find  no  reign 
of  forty  years  ;  one  (Henry  VI.)  of  thirty-nine,  one  (Henry 
VIII.)  of  thirty-eight ;  and  only  six  out  of  the  thirty-four 
which  come  within  a  half-dozen  of  the  forty,  on  one  side  or 
the  other.  But  the  case  as  regards  the  use  of  forty  in  this 
early  Hebrew  chronology  is  not  yet  fully  stated.  The  only 
large  number  beside  forty  which  occurs  in  the  series,  the 
only  other  number  which  rises  above  five  and  twenty,  is  that 
given  for  the  rest  which  followed  the  deliverance  by  Ehud  ; 
and  this  is  eighty  years — that  is,  twice  forty.  Now  this  rela 
tion  may  be  accidental  :  I  mean,  there  is  no  absolute  impos 
sibility  in  the  supposition  that  the  periods  of  time  referred  to 
should  have  had  this  precise  ratio  to  each  other.  But  it  must 
be  owned,  I  think,  that  the  chances  are  very  greatly  against 
it.  That  a  series  of  historic  times  given  with  historical  ex 
actness,  or  nearly  so,  should  contain  seven  forties  in  twenty- 


392  HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 

one  numbers,  is  exceedingly  improbable  ;  but  that  the  only 
remaining  number  which  is  more  than  twenty-five  should  be 
twice  forty,  adds  much  to  the  improbability.  We  may  fairly 
say  that  the  appearance  of  twice  forty  in  this  place  is,  under 
all  the  circumstances,  a  fact  as  surprising  and  as  much  requir 
ing  explanation  as  if  forty  itself  had  been  the  number  ;  and 
consequently,  in  estimating  the  character  of  this  chronology, 
we  may  fairly  consider  this  as  another  repetition  of  the 
number  forty.  But  yet  again,  we  find  twice  forty  years 
assigned  (Ex.  vii.  7)  f°r  the  n'^"e  °f  Moses  prior  to  the 
Exodus,  and  this  a  New  Testament  passage  (Acts  vii.  23,  30) 
divides  into  two  periods  of  forty  years  each.  It  is  an 
education  of  forty  years  at  the  Egyptian  court,  followed  by  a 
wandering  life  of  forty  years  among  the  Midianites  of  the 
desert,  that  prepares  him  to  act  during  another  forty  years,  at 
once  as  the  law-giver  of  his  people  and  the  leader  of  their 
desert  wanderings.  And  lastly,  as  David,  the  great  national 
hero  and  conqueror  of  the  Hebrews,  has  a  reign  of  forty 
years,  so  we  find  forty  years  assigned  to  the  peaceful  but 
splendid  reign  of  his  successor,  the  builder  of  the  temple 
and  the  last  monarch  of  the  united  people.  And  we  have  al 
ready  noticed  in  the  book  of  Acts  a  statement,  resting  per 
haps  on  a  tradition  as  ancient  as  the  Old  Testament,  which 
gives  the  same  period  to  the  first  in  the  great  triad  of  national 
Hebrew  sovereigns,  the  warlike  but  unfortunate  founder  of 
the  Hebrew  monarchy.  We  find  thus  in  the  chronology 
from  Moses  to  Solomon  inclusive  no  less  than  eleven  repeti 
tions  of  the  number  forty  ;  or  twelve,  if  the  eighty  after 
Ehud's  deliverance  be  reckoned,  as  it  fairly  may,  in  this  cate 
gory. 

Now  the  view  here  presented  of  the  facts  seems  to  suggest 
— and  not  only  that,  but  almost  to  require — the  conclusion 
that  we  have  in  this  narrative  traces  of  an  artificial  chrono 
logy,  proceeding  by  periods  of  forty.  I  should  call  that  a 
natural  chronology  which,  in  stating  known  times,  should  give 
them  with  exactness,  or  nearly  so  ;  and,  in  regard  to  others, 
should  estimate  them  as  nearly  as  it  knew  how,  if  there  were 
means  for  estimating  them,  and  if  not,  should  leave  them  un 
determined,  either  expressly  or  tacitly  confessing  ignorance. 


HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY.  393 

On  the  other  hand,  I  call  that  an  artificial  chronology  in 
which  the  times,  instead  of  being  stated  thus  or  left  unstated, 
are  determined  in  whole  or  in  part  by  assumptions  or  allow 
ances  of  an  arbitrary  or  systematic  character.  Thus,  if  forty 
years  should  be  assumed  as  a  general  expression  for  any 
period  of  considerable  length — as  for  instance  the  reign  of  a 
king  who  remains  some  time  upon  the  throne,  or  the  duration 
of  a  peace  which  has  some  degree  of  permanence  :  a  chronol 
ogy  proceeding  on  this  assumption,  and  assigning  forty  years 
to  particular  facts  or  states  of  such  a  character,  would  be  to 
that  extent  an  artificial  chronology.  Or,  if  forty  years  should 
be  assumed  as  the  length  of  time  for  a  generation,  a  chro 
nology  proceeding  upon  this  assumption,  and  assigning  this 
period  to  the  public  activity  of  particular  individuals  who 
should  take  their  place  in  a  series  of  generations,  would  again 
be  so  far  forth  an  artificial  chronology.  These  modes  I  sug 
gest  merely  by  way  of  illustration.  Whether  the  chronology 
we  are  considering  involves  either  of  these  assumptions,  or 
whether  its  peculiar  character  is  to  be  explained  in  some  dif 
ferent  way,  I  do  not  at  present  undertake  to  decide,  nor  is 
it  necessary  to  do  so.  That  it  has  traces  of  something  dif 
ferent  from  a  precise  historical  chronology  results  from  the 
extraordinary  predominance  of  the  number  forty,  and  results 
equally,  whether  we  can  find  a  plausible  explanation  for  it  or 
not.  The  best  explanation  we  can  suggest  may  be  encum 
bered  by  serious  difficulties  :  but  those  difficulties  will  not 
affect  the  evidence  which  seems  to  force  upon  us  the  conclu 
sion  already  stated — that  this  series  of  numbers  in  the  early 
Hebrew  history  from  Moses  to  Solomon,  nearly  half  of  them 
forties,  bears  traces  of  what  maybe  called  in  the  sense  just 
explained  an  artificial  chronology,  proceeding  in  some  way  by 
forties.  It  is  not  easy  to  see  how  this  result  can  be  avoided 
except  by  supposing  a  kind  of  miracle,  by  assuming  a  special 
divine  interference,  which  gave  to  an  extraordinary  proportion 
of  early  Hebrew  times  the  exact  or  approximate  length  of 
forty  years.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  I  use  the  term 
artificial  here  in  no  invidious  sense,  and  without  in  the  least 
meaning  to  imply  any  unjustifiable  deviation  from  historic 
accuracy  ;  much  less  any  purpose  of  concealing  their  own 


394  HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 

ignorance,  or  of  misleading  others,  on  the  part  of  the  ancient 
Hebrew  chroniclers.  It  may  have  been  observed  that,  in 
speaking  of  this  series  of  numbers,  I  do  not  say  it  is  a  chronol 
ogy  proceeding  by  forties,  but  that  it  contains  traces  of  such  a 
chronology.  For,  mixed  up  with  the  forties  in  the  book  of 
Judges,  we  find  other  numbers  of  a  definite  and  apparently 
historical  character — thus,  for  the  oppressions  by  the  Meso- 
potamians,  Moabites,  Canaanites,  Midianites,  and  Ammo 
nites,  we  have  the  numbers  eight,  eighteen,  twenty,  seven, 
and  eighteen  years.  For  Abimelech  we  have  three  years,  for 
Tola  twenty-three,  for  Jair  twenty-two,  for  Jephthah  six,  for 
Ibzan  seven,  for  Elon  ten,  for  Abdon  eight,  for  Samson 
twenty.  And  even  in  regard  to  the  forty,  I  would  not  be 
understood  as  saying  that  it  is  in  every  instance  unhistorical, 
or  that  it  is  so  in  any  part'cular  instance  ;  but  only  that  the 
concurrence  of  so  many  forties  in  a  chronological  series  of 
this  extent  can  hardly  be  looked  upon  as  historical. 

Let  us  proceed  now  from  what  seems  nearly  certain  to 
that  which  is  more  doubtful.  We  started  at  the  outset  with  a 
particular  chronological  number  in  I.  Kings,  and,  in  comparing 
this  with  a  series  of  numbers  scattered  through  the  earlier 
history,  we  found  a  discrepancy  between  them.  We  then  ex 
amined  the  discrepant  series,  and  discovered  in  it  the  traces 
of  a  peculiar  chronology,  proceeding  by  forties.  It  becomes 
then  a  fair  question  whether  the  discrepant  number  in  I.  Kings 
may  not  itself  have  the  same  character.  Now,  singularly 
enough,  the  number  in  question  (four  hundred  and  eighty 
years)  is  the  precise  aggregate  of  twelve  forties.  Of  course 
this  fact  alone  would  be  of  little  weight,  if  in  the  remaining 
chronology  the  number  forty  had  no  special  prominence.  In 
that  case,  the  fact  that  four  hundred  and  eighty  consists  of 
twelve  forties  would  be  no  more  important  than  the  fact  that 
it  contains  sixteen  thirties  or  thirty  sixteens.  The  significance 
of  the  fact  lies  in  the  coincidence  that  four  hundred  and 
eighty  should  be  an  exact  multiple  of  the  particular  number 
which  figures  so  largely  in  the  detailed  chronology.  Such  a 
coincidence  is  d  priori  improbable.  The  chance  that  two 
events  remote  in  time  should  be  found  to  be  separated  from 
each  other  by  a  number  of  years  which  is  divisible  by  forty 


HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY.  395 

is  only  one  chance  in  forty,  if  the  interval  is  given  with  exact 
ness.  And  the  present  case  is  one  in  which  we  should  ex 
pect  that  the  writer,  if  the  precise  number  of  years  had  been 
present  to  his  mind,  would  have  stated  it  precisely,  instead 
of  contenting  himself  with  a  loose  approximation.  For  the 
statement  is  not  a  casual  one,  suggested  in  passing  ;  it  stands 
prominently  forward  at  the  opening  of  the  section,  and  ap 
pears  to  be  regarded  by  the  writer  as  fixing  the  relation  in 
time  between  the  two  grand  eras  of  Hebrew  history.  More 
over,  the  expression  is  peculiarly  distinct  and  circumstantial  ; 
not  "  Solomon  began  building  the  temple  four  hundred  and 
eighty  years  after  the  Exodus  ;  "  but  "  it  came  to  pass  in  the 
four  hundred  and  eightieth  year  after  the  children  of  Israel  were 
come  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  in  the  fourth  year  of  Solo 
mon's  reign  over  Israel,  in  the  month  Zif,  which  is  the  second 
month,"  etc.  But,  waiving  this  point,  and  supposing  that  the 
writer  might  have  contented  himself  here  with  a  loose  state 
ment  of  the  interval,  with  giving  it  in  round  numbers  by  the 
nearest  ten,  still  the  d  priori  chance  that  the  number  even  as 
thus  stated  should  be  an  exact  multiple  of  forty  is  but  one  in 
four. 

We  cannot  help  thinking,  therefore,  that  the  relation  of  four 
hundredand  eighty  to  forty  is  calculated  to  suggest  the  conjec 
ture  (and  that  with  some  degree  of  force)  that  the  statement 
in  I.  Kings  may  be  founded  on  a  chronological  method,  such  as 
we  have  before  been  criticising.  And  this  conjecture  receives 
some  color  of  plausibility  from  the  various  reading  of  the 
LXX.  (four  hundred  and  forty  for  four  hundred  and  eighty) 
to  which  we  have  already  adverted :  at  least,  that  variation 
makes  it  apparent  that  a  similar  idea  \vas  entertained  as  early 
as  the  time  of  the  Septuagint  translators.  For,  in  the  first 
place,  this  must  be  regarded  as  an  intentional,  not  an  acci 
dental  variation.  That  is,  whichever  of  the  two  was  the 
original  number,  the  other  was  the  result  of  a  conscious  and 
calculated  alteration.  As  it  will  make  no  difference  in  the  ar 
gument,  we  may  assume,  what  appears  to  be  most  probable 
in  itself,  that  four  hundred  and  eighty  was  the  original  read 
ing,  and  four  hundred  and  forty  either  a  change  made  by  the 
LXX.  translator  or  one  which  he  found  already  made  by  some 


396  HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 

one  else,  and  represented  in  the  MS.  from  which  he  render 
ed.  It  is  true  that  Winer  and  Thenius  explain  the  variation 
as  arising  by  accident  from  a  confusion  between  the  Hebrew 
letters  eighty  and  forty.  But  there  are  these  two  things  to 
be  said  against  This  :  i.  That  the  letters  in  question,  though 
a  good  deal  like  each  other  in  the  present  Hebrew  square 
character,  have  much  less  resemblance  in  the  ancient  forms 
of  the  Phoenician  inscriptions  and  the  Maccabean  coins,  and 
therefore,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  were  not  particularly  liable 
to  be  confounded  in  MSS.  of  older  elate  than  the  LXX.  ver 
sions.  2.  Aside  from  such  a  special  resemblance,  we  must 
hold  it  in  a  high  degree  improbable  that  a  purely  accidental 
variation  should  preserve  the  extraordinary  characteristic  of 
the  original  number — that  of  being  exactly  divisible  by  forty. 
The  chances  against  it  can  hardly  be  less  than  six  to  one. 
We  think  it  highly  probable,  therefore,  that  we  have  here  an 
intentional  variation — such  as  are  well  known  to  exist  on  a 
larger  scale  in  the  patriarchal  chronology  of  Genesis,  ch.v.  and 
xi.  ; — where  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  difference  is  the  result  of 
calculation  on  one  side  or  the  other,  and  perhaps  on  both. 
But  if  any  one  designedly  reduced  the  number  from  four  hun 
dred  and  eighty  to  four  hundred  and  forty,  he  must  have  re 
garded  the  four  hundred  and  eighty  as  made  up  by  the  addi 
tion  of  forties,  and  have  satisfied  himself  in  some  way  that 
too  many  forties  by  one  had  been  allowed  in  the  calculation  : 
in  other  words,  he  must  have  regarded  it  as  belonging  to  an 
artificial  chronology  proceeding  by  forties.  Now  it  is  cer 
tainly  quite  supposable  that  the  author  of  this  variation  was 
mistaken  in  his  view  of  the  original  number  ;  but,  at  any 
rate,  it  is  a  remarkable  circumstance,  to  which  we  can  hardly 
refuse  some  degree  of  weight,  that  the  possible  relation  (as 
we  have  presented  it)  between  the  four  hundred  and  eighty 
of  I.  Kings  and  the  forty  of  the  detailed  chronology ,  was  ob 
served  not  more  than  three  centuries,  and  perhaps  much  less, 
after  the  completion  of  the  books  of  Kings. 

But  there  is  an  important  circumstance  which  lends  a  fur 
ther  degree  of  plausibility  to  the  supposition  that  the  number 
in  I.  Kings  vi.  I  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  aggregate  of  so 
many  forties.  We  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  most 


HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 


397 


complete  and  exact  genealogical  registers  preserved  among 
the  Hebrews  gave  eleven  or  twelve  generations  for  the  inter 
val  from  the  Exodus  to  the  building  of  the  temple.  If  among 
the  family  lists  for  that  period  which  we  find  in  the  book  of 
Chronicles  \ve  had  to  choose  the  one  which  could  with  most 
probability  be  relied  upon  for  exactness  and  completeness,  we 
should  have  no  hesitation  in  taking  that  which  gives  us  the 
descendants  of  Aaron,  the  family  which  inherited  the  preemi 
nent  dignity  and  consequence  of  the  high-priesthood.  Now 
here  we  find  (I.  Chron.  vi.  50-53)  twelve  generations  enu 
merated,  beginning  with  Aaron  and  closing  with  Ahimaaz  the 
son  of  Zadok.  Ahimaaz,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  a  con 
temporary  of  David,  though  certainly  a  younger  contempo 
rary,  since  his  father  Zadok  was  still  living  at  the  commence 
ment  of  Solomon's  reign.  If  therefore — I  present  it  merely 
as  a  supposition — if  on  the  basis  of  this  genealogy  one  should 
undertake  to  assign  the  number  of  generations  between  the 
Exodus  and  the  building  of  the  temple,  he  would  give  twelve 
or  eleven,  according  as  he  included  or  excluded  Ahimaaz, 
the  last  in  the  series.  But  in  the  same  connection  we  find 
two  other  genealogies,  commencing  with  Levi  and  ending  re 
spectively  with  Asaph  the  Gershomite  and  Ethan  the  Mera- 
rite,  whom  "  David  set  over  the  service  of  song  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord,  after  that  the  ark  had  rest."  In  the  former  of 
these  we  find  from  first  to  last  fifteen  generations.  Now  in 
the  high-priestly  series  just  mentioned,  the  fourth  from  Levi  is 
Aaron.  If,  then,  in  the  lineage  of  Asaph  we  suppose  the  one 
named  fourth  from  Levi  to  have  been  a  contemporary  of 
Aaron,  we  find  here  twelve  generations  subsequent  to  the 
Exodus.  The  lineage  of  Ethan  gives  us,  on  the  same  suppo 
sition,  eleven  generations.  It  is  true  that  the  lineage  of 
Heman  the  Kohathite,  a  third  chief  of  the  temple  singers, 
which  we  find  in  the  same  chapter  of  I.  Chronicles,  appears  to 
give  us  twenty-two  generations  from  Levi,  or  nineteen  from 
the  Exodus  to  the  time  of  David.  It  is  also  true  that  the  re 
maining  genealogy  which  spans  the  chasm  of  the  Judges,  I 
mean  that  of  David's  ancestors,  assigns  only  eleven  genera 
tions  from  Juda  the  brother  of  Levi  to  David  himself,  which 
on  the  same  supposition  as  before  would  give  eight  genera- 


398  HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 

tions  from  the  Exodus.  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  these 
series,  either  absolutely  or  in  their  relation  to  each  other,  the 
interesting  fact  remains,  that  a  majority  of  the  whole  num 
ber,  and  among  them  that  one  which  would  seem  most  likely 
(judging  d  priori)  to  be  exactly  and  completely  given,  make 
either  eleven  or  twelve  generations  between  the  Exodus  and 
the  erection  of  the  temple.  Now  it  is  a  well-known  fact  that 
among  the  Hebrews  the  number  forty  was  used  as  a  score  is 
with  us,  for  a  large  indefinite  number.  It  would  not  be  sur 
prising,  therefore,  if  a  Hebrew  author,  in  making  a  chrono 
logical  estimate,  should  allow  forty  years  for  a  generation, 
though  this  is  certainly  beyond  the  real  mark  ;  the  true  aver 
age  for  a  generation  being  probably  not  much  more  than 
thirty  years.  In  this  manner  we  might  find  a  plausible  ex 
planation  for  the  four  hundred  and  eighty  of  our  Hebrew  text, 
and  a  plausible  explanation  at  the  same  time  for  the  four  hun 
dred  and  forty,  the  early  and  remarkable  variation  of  the 
LXX.  The  difference  of  those  numbers  would  be  accounted 
for  by  the  recognition  either  of  twelve  or  of  eleven  genera 
tions,  both  of  them  naturally  suggested  by  the  genealogical 
series,  for  the  interval  in  question. 

But  if  the  number  four  hundred  and  eighty  may  have  been 
founded  on  a  reckoning  of  twelve  generations  at  forty  years 
each,  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  in  the  view  of  him  who  first 
assigned  it,  whether  the  compiler  of  I.  Kings  or  some  one 
before  him,  it  would  be  connected  with  the  forties  of  which 
so  many  are  .found  in  the  Pentateuch,  Judges,  and  Samuel. 
The  forty  years'  wandering  under  Moses,  the  forty  years  of 
Othniel,  the  twice  forty  of  Ehud,  or  perhaps  Ehud  and  Sham- 
gar  together,  the  forty  of  Deborah  and  Barak,  the  forty  of 
Gideon,  the  forty  of  Philistine  oppression,  including  perhaps 
the  deliverance  of  Samson,  the  forty  of  Eli,  and  the  forty  of 
David,  would  give  nine  forties.  It  can  hardly  be  doubted 
that  forty  more  would  be  allowed  for  the  generation  of  Joshua 
and  the  elders  who  survived  him  ;  .and  again,  forty  more  for 
the  generation  of  Samuel  and  Saul.  This  would  make  eleven 
forties  or  four  hundred  and  forty  years,  the  number  of  the 
LXX.  As  for  the  remaining  forty  of  the  Hebrew  text,  it 
might  be  made  by  allowing  two  generations  for  Joshua  and 


HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 


399 


the  elders,  or  by  allowing  two  for  Samuel  and  Saul.  Both 
of  these  suppositions,  however,  appear  improbable.  The 
elders  who  overlived  Joshua  would  most  naturally  be  viewed 
as  belonging  to  the  same  generation  ;  and  Sarnuel  would  ap 
pear  to  have  continued  his  prophetic  activity  until  late  in  the 
reign  of  Saul.  Another  supposition  is  suggested  by  the 
contents  of  the  book  of  Judges.  The  principal  figures  of 
this  book  are  Othniel,  Ehud,  Deborah  and  Barak,  Gideon, 
Jephthah,  Samson.  These  alone  deliver  Israel  from  an  actual 
subjugation  by  foreign  oppressors.  Their  actions  receive  a 
prominence  in  the  narrative,  and  are  rehearsed  for  the  most 
part  with  a  minuteness,  altogether  in  contrast  with  the  brief 
and  passing  notices  of  the  remaining  judges.  Each  one  of 
these  is  introduced  with  a  statement  that  the  children  of 
Israel  did  evil  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord ;  that  the  Lord  in  con 
sequence  delivered  them  into  the  hands  of  a  particular  enemy, 
to  whom  they  were  subject  for  a  specified  time  ;  that  the 
people  then,  in  their  distress,  cried  unto  the  Lord  (this  particu 
lar  is  omitted  only  in  the  case  of  Samson),  and  that  an  indi 
vidual  hereupon  appeared  to  act  with  divine  sanction  as  the 
deliverer  and  judge  of  his  people.  None  of  these  particulars 
is  found  in  the  case  of  Shamgar,  Tola,  Jair,  Ibzan,  Elon, 
Abdon.  Now  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  number  forty 
occurs  only  in  connection  with  the  former  class  of  judges,  and 
it  is  found  in  connection  with  all  of  them  excepting  Jephthah. 
This  coincidence  in  a  large  number  of  particulars  may  warrant 
the  suspicion  that  there  was  once  complete  coincidence  where 
we  now  find  a  single  exception.  It  seems  not  unlikely  that 
the  minute  account  of  the  six  heroic  deliverers  may  have 
come  from  a  source  in  which  only  they  appeared,  with  a 
chronology  by  forties  for  all  of  them,  Jephthah  not  excepted ; 
while  the  brief  notices  of  the  remaining  six  judges,  and  per 
haps  all  the  precise  numbers  of  the  book,  are  derived  from 
other  sources.  The  number  four  hundred  and  eighty  then 
may  have  come,  not  from  our  present  book  of  Judges,  but 
from  the  source  referred  to,  with  its  chronology  of  forties 
only.  I  am  aware  how  little  certainty  can  attach  to  conjec 
tures  of  this  kind,  even  when  suggested  by  the  obvious  fea 
tures  of  the  works  to  which  they  relate.  But  the  object  is 


400  HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 

not  to  show  how  the  four  hundred  and  eighty  actually  was 
connected  with  the  forties  of  the  earlier  narrative — for  this 
we  could  hardly  hope  to  render  certain — but  only  to  show 
how  it  may  have  been  connected. 

Another  argument  which  has  its  bearing  upon  the  subject 
is  founded  upon  a  connection  with  Egyptian  history.  It  is 
well  known  that  Manetho,  in  a  long  extract  quoted  by  Jose- 
phus  c.  Apion,  i.  26,  describes  a  great  removal  of  leprous 
and  unclean  persons  from  lower  Egypt  under  Osarsiph,  an 
apostate  priest  of  Heliopolis,  who  afterwards  (he  says)  as 
sumed  the  name  of  Moses.  This  transaction  is  referred  by 
Manetho  to  the  reign  of  Menophis  or  Amenophis  (as  the  name 
stands  in  the  text  of  Joscphus),  who  is  identified  by  what  ap 
pear  to  be  convincing  proofs  with  Menephta,  a  king  of  the 
XlXth  Egyptian  dynasty.  His  reign,  according  to  Lepsius, 
extended  from  1328  to  1309  (ace.  to  Bunsen,  1325-1307)  ; 
and,  if  so,  preceded  the  building  of  Solomon's  temple  by  little 
more  than  three  centuries — a  period  much  less  than  the  four 
hundred  and  eighty  or  four  hundred  and  forty  years  which 
we  have  been  criticising,  though  sufficient  to  allow  about 
eleven  generations  of  the  ordinary  or  average  length,  and  pos 
sibly  not  incompatible  with  twelve  generations  in  a  particular 
case,  where  the  average  may  have  chanced  to  be  rather 
smaller  than  usual.  But  into  this  argument  I  do  not  pro 
pose  to  enter.  To  determine  the  degree  of  weight  which 
should  be  given  to  it  would  require  an  extended  discussion, 
demanding  at  once  more  Egyptological  science  than  I  can 
lay  claim  to,  and  more  time  than  my  hearers  could  well 
afford  me.  I  shall  content  myself  with  having  stated  the 
considerations  which  appear  to  be  suggested  by  a  critical 
view  of  the  Hebrew  sources;  and  will  only  add  a  word  in 
conclusion,  to  guard  against  a  possible  misconception  of 
my  meaning. 

When  pointing  out  in  the  detailed  Chronology  from  Moses 
to  Solomon  the  extraordinary  repetition  of  the  number  forty, 
and  inferring  thence  the  peculiar  character  of  this  chronology, 
I  represented  the  conclusion  as  one  which  it  seemed  to  me 
not  easy  to  avoid.  As  to  the  other  point — that  the  same 
peculiar  character  may  perhaps  belong  to  the  four  hundred 


HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 


401 


and  eighty  of  I.  Kings — I  am  far  from  intending  to  speak 
with  anything  like  equal  confidence.  I  have  aimed  to  repre 
sent  this  as  a  conjecture,  to  which  a  number  of  circumstances 
lend  more  or  less  of  plausibility,  but  by  no  means  as  a  proved 
or  ascertained  result.  It  is  no  doubt  much  more  difficult  to 
establish  any  such  conclusion  as  to  a  single  number,  which 
overleaps  centuries  at  a  bound,  than  for  an  extended  series, 
where  the  disproportionate  frequency  of  one  designation  fur 
nishes  evidence  hardly  to  be  resisted.  But  the  intrinsic  diffi 
culty  of  obtaining  evidence  in  regard  to  the  historical  exact 
ness  of  the  four  hundred  and  eighty  does  not  justify  us  in  as 
serting  that  it  is  inexact  or  unhistorical  without  sufficient  evi 
dence  to  prove  it  so.  And  I  confess  that  the  evidence  in  this 
case — apart  from  that  which  may  be  furnished  by  the  Egyp 
tian  history,  for  that  I  do  not  feel  myself  prepared  to  criticise 
—the  evidence  to  be  derived  from  biblical  sources  alone,  does 
not  appear  to  me  by  any  means  decisive  against  the  histori 
cal  character  of  the  number.  At  the  same  time,  I  am  free  to 
acknowledge  that  I  cannot  look  upon  it  as  I  should  if  the  cir 
cumstances  here  brought  together  had  no  existence  ;  and  that 
my  faith  in  the  commonly  received  chronology  of  the  early 
ages,  which  relies  on  this  number  as  a  bridge  to  overpass  the 
chasm  that  separates  historical  from  patriarchal  times,  is  far 
from  being  clear  and  confident. 

One  word  more,  in  acknowledgment  of  obligations.  The 
idea  that  the  period  of  four  hundred  and  eighty  years  in  I. 
Kings  was  determined  by  a  series  of  generations  reckoned  at 
.forty  years  each  is  said  to  have  been  suggested  by  Gehringer, 
in  a  program  Ueber  die  biblische  Acre,  published  at  Tubingen 
in  1842.  This  I  have  not  seen  :  its  author  appears  to  have 
maintained,  nevertheless,  the  historical  exactness  of  the  num 
ber,  and  to  have  rearranged  the  chronology  of  the  Judges  in 
order  to  make  it  harmonize  with  this  statement.  The  same 
idea  is  developed  with  much  clearness  and  caution  by  Ber- 
theau  of  Gottingen,  in  the  introduction  to  his  Commentary 
on  the  Judges,  published  in  1845,  as  a  part  of  the  Excgctisches 
HandbucJi  for  the  Old  Testament.  It  is  controverted  by 
Thenius,  in  his  Commentary  on  Kings  published  in  1849  as  a 
part  of  the  same  manual:  It  is  taken  up  and  carried  out  still 
26 


402  HEBREW  CHRONOLOGY. 

further,  with  abundance  of  learning,  by  Lepsius,  in  his  great 
work,  Die  Chronologie  der  sEgypter.  These  are  the  sources 
from  which  I  have  derived  in  great  part  the  materials  for  this 
article, 


XX. 

ON    THE    LANGUAGE    OF    PALESTINE    AT   THE 
TIME   OF   CHRIST. 

1868. 

THE  subject  of  this    article  is  not  the  language  used  by 
the  writers  of  the  New  Testament,  but   the  language  of 
its  speakers,  the  actual  language  of  the  discourses  and  conver 
sations  which  stand  reported  in  the  Greek  of  the  New  Testa 
ment. 

On  the  question,  WJiat  was  the  prevailing  language  of 
Palestine  in  the  time  of  onr  Saviour?  there  has  been  great 
difference  of  opinion  and  much  earnest  controversy.  Some 
have  maintained  that  the  mass  of  the  people  spoke  Aramaic 
only  ;  others  that  they  spoke  Greek  only  ;  and  yet  others  that 
they  were  acquainted  with  both  languages,  and  could  use  this 
or  that  at  pleasure.  To  understand  the  merits  of  the  case,  the 
simplest  way  will  be  to  take  up  each  of  the  two  languages  in 
question,  and  trace  the  indications  of  its  use  among  the  Pales 
tine  Jews  of  the  first  century. 

We  begin  then  with  THE  ARAMAIC  (the  Jewish- Aramaic 
or  Chaldee,  in  distinction  from  the  Christian-Aramaic  or 
Syriac  dialect).  It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  long  intercourse, 
friendly  and  hostile,  between  the  Kingdom  of  Israel  and  its 
Aramaean  neighbors  on  the  north,  especially  the  Syrians  of 
Damascus,  may  have  produced  some  effect  on  the  language 
of  the  northern  Israelites.  But  the  effect  must  have  been 
much  greater  when  the  Kingdom  of  Israel  was  overthrown  by 
the  Assyrians,  the  higher  classes  carried  into  other  lands,  and 
their  places  filled  by  importations  from  tribes  of  Aramaean 
speech.  In  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Assyrians,  a  few 
years  later,  it  appears  from  the  proposal  of  the  Jewish  chiefs 
to  Rabshakeh  (II.  K!  xviii.  26)  that  the  Aramaean  language 
was  understood  by  the  leading  men  of  the  city,  though  unin- 


404  LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 

telligible  to  the  people  at  large.  The  course  of  events  during 
the  next  century  must  have  added  to  the  influence  of  the 
Aramaic  in  southern  Palestine,  until  at  length  the  conquest 
by  Nebuchadnezzar  and  the  Babylonian  captivity  gave  it  a 
decided  preponderance.  Surrounded  for  two  generations  by 
speakers  of  Aramaic,  the  Juda^an  exiles  could  not  fail  to  ac 
quire  that  language.  It  may  be  presumed  that  many,  perhaps 
most  of  them,  still  kept  up  the  use  of  Hebrew  in  their  inter 
course  with  one  another  ;  but  some,  doubtless,  forgot  it  alto 
gether.  After  the  return  to  their  own  land  the  Aramaic  was 
still  required  for  communication  with  many  brethren  out  of 
Palestine  or  in  it,  and  with  the  officers  or  agents  of  the  Persian 
government,  which  seems  to  have  made  this  the  official  lan 
guage  for  the  provinces  between  the  Tigris  and  the  Mediter 
ranean  (comp.  Ezra  iv.  7,  8).  The  progress  of  the  change 
which  made  the  Hebrew  a  dead  language,  and  put  the  Ara 
maic  in  its  place  as  a  living  one,  cannot  be  distinctly  traced 
for  want  of  literary  monuments.  But  the  result  is  certain  ;  it 
was  complete  at  the  Christian  era,  and  may  have  been  so  two 
or  three  centuries  earlier.  It  is  true  that  the  New  Testament 
in  several  passages  speaks  of  the  Hebrew  as  if  still  in  use  ; 
but  in  some  of  these  (John  v.  2  ;  xix.  13,  17)  it  is  evident 
from  the  form  of  a  word  described  as  Hebrew  (BriOecrSd, 
ra/3/3a0a,  To\yo9a)  that  the  Aramaic  is  meant,  the  current 
language  of  the  Hebrew  people.  In  many  other  cases,  where 
words  of  the  popular  idiom  are  given  in  the  New  Testament, 
but  without  being  called  Hebrew,  they  can  only  be  explained 
from  the  Aramaic  :  thus  Matt.  v.  22,  paicd;  vi.  24  (Luke  xvi. 
9,  13),  /AajjLwvds  ;  xvi.  17,  ftap'Iwva  ;  Mark  v.  41,  Takuda  /eotyu ; 
vii.  34,  ty^afld;  xiv.  36,  'A/3/3d  ;  John  i.  43,  K^a?  ;  Acts  i. 
19,  'AKe\$a/nd  ;  I.  Cor.  xvi.  22,  papdv  dOd — to  which  add  the 
words  paftfti,  pajSftovvi,  fieao-ia^^  Trda^a,  and  proper  names 
beginning  with  Bar  ('son').  By  Josephus,  too,  the  name 
Hebrew  is  often  used  to  denote  the  popular  Aramaic  :  thus 
ISftjyLta,  'red'  (Ant.  ii.  I,  §  i),  %avawi9,  'priests'  (iii.  7,  §i), 
'AaapOd,  '  Pentecost'  (iii.  10,  §  6),  e/uW,  '  priest's  girdle'  (iii. 
7,  §  2),  all  of  which  he  designates  as  Hebrew,  are  evidently 
Aramaic. 

That  this  Jewish-Aramaic  was  not  confined  to  a  fraction  of 


LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE.  405 

the  people,  but  was  in  general  and  familiar  use  among  the 
Jews  of  Palestine  in  the  first  century,  is  proved  by  a  variety 
of  evidence,  outside  of  the  New  Testament  as  well  as  in  it. 
Josephus  speaks  of  it  repeatedly  (B.  J.  pr.  §  I,  v.  6,  §5,  v.  9, 
§  2)  as  TI  Trdrpios  YXwcrcra,  the  tongue  of  the  fathers  and  father 
land,  or,  as  we  should  say,  the  mother  tongue,  the  native,  ver 
nacular  idiom.  As  such  he  contrasts  it  with  the  Greek,  which 
he  describes  (Ant.  pr.  §  2)  as  a\\o§a,7rr)V  rjplv  KOL  gevrjs 
8ia\efCTOv  crvvrfQeiav,  '  a  mode  (of  expression)  alien  to  us  and 
belonging  to  a  foreign  language.'  From  Josephus  we  learn 
(B.  J.  v.  6,  §3)  that,  in  the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  when  the 
watchman  on  the  towers  saw  a  heavy  stone  launched  from  the 
Roman  catapults,  he  cried  in  the  native  tongue  "  the  missile 
is  coming  ;  "  he  \vould,  of  course,  give  warning  in  the  language 
best  understood  by  the  citizens  at  large.  Josephus  himself, 
when  sent  by  Titus  to  communicate  with  the  Jews  and  per 
suade  them  to  surrender,  addressed  the  multitude  in  Hebrew 
(B.  J.  v.  9,  §  2),  which  he  would  not  have  done  if  the  language 
had  not  been  generally  intelligible  and  acceptable.  For  fur 
ther  proof  we  might  appeal  to  the  Targums  or  Chaldee  para 
phrases  of  parts  of  the  Old  Testament,  of  which  the  oldest, 
that  of  the  Pentateuch  by  Onkelos,  was  probably  written  not  far 
from  the  time  of  Christ  ;  but  it  is  possible  that  these  Targums 
may  have  been  composed,  not  for  the  Jews  of  Palestine,  but 
for  those  of  Babylonia  and  the  adjacent  countries  ;  as  Josephus 
states  (B.  J.  pr.  §  i)  that  the  first  edition  of  his  own  history 
was  composed  in  the  native  tongue  (rfj  Trarplw)  for  the  Bar 
barians  of  the  interior  (rot?  avco  ffapfidpots).  Of  more 
weight  as  proof  of  a  vernacular  Aramaic  in  Palestine  is  the 
early  existence  of  a  Hebrew  gospel  (/.  e.  an  Aramaic,  or,  as 
Jerome  calls  it,  Syro-Chaldaic  gospel,  "  Chaldaico  Syroque 
scrmone  conscriptum  "),  commonly  ascribed  to  the  Apostle 
Matthew.  Papias,  bishop  of  Hierapolis,  who  flourished  in  the 
first  half  of  the  second  century,  speaks  of  such  a  book,  and 
holds  it  for  the  composition  of  the  Apostle.  He  may  have 
been  mistaken  as  to  the  authorship  ;  but  as  to  the  existence 
of  an  Aramaic  gospel  at  a  very  early  period,  there  is  no 
sufficient  ground  to  discredit  his  testimony.  It  appears  then 
that  there  was  a  body  of  people  in  Palestine  during  the  first 


406  LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 

century  to  whom  it  seemed  desirable  to  have  the  gospel  in 
Aramaic,  perhaps  not  solely  as  being  more  intelligible,  but  as 
recommended  also  by  patriotic  or  sectarian  feeling. 

Turning  to  the  New  Testament,  we  find  it  stated  (Acts  1.19) 
that  when  the  catastrophe  of  Judas  became  known  to  the  inhab 
itants  of  Jerusalem,  the  place  where  it  occurred  was  called  'A/ceX- 
Sapd, '  field  of  blood/  a  name  clearly  Aramaic  ;  and  that  it  was 
called  thus  rfj  i$ia  Sia\efcr(D  avra)i>,  '  in  their  own  dialect.' 
This  does  not  imply  that  the  Aramaic  belonged  to  the  inhab 
itants  of  Jerusalem  exclusively,  so  as  to  be  spoken  by  no 
other  population  ;  nor  that  it  belonged  to  them  as  their  only 
language,  so  that  no  other  tongue  was  spoken  in  the  city  ; 
but  that  it  belonged  to  them  more  properly  than  any  other 
tongue  which  might  be  spoken  there,  which  could  only  be 
true  of  the  native  vernacular,  rj  Trdrpios  y\wo-cra.  A  strong 
light  is  thrown  on  this  whole  subject  by  the  account  of  Paul's 
address  to  the  people  of  the  city  (Acts  xxi.  27  ff.).  The 
Apostle,  having  been  rescued  by  the  chief  captain  from  a  mob 
who  sought  to  kill  him,  \vas  about  to  be  taken  to  the  castle  ; 
but  was  allowed  at  his  own  request  to  address  the  multitude. 
"  And  when  there  was  made  a  great  silence,  he  spake  unto 
them  in  the  Hebrew  tongue."  "And  when  they  heard  that 
he  spake  in  the  Hebrew  tongue  to  them,  they  kept  the  more 
silence."  (Acts  xxi.  40;  xxii.  2.)  It  is  plain  that  he  took 
them  by  surprise.  If  they  did  not  know  him  for  a  native  of 
the  Greek  city  Tarsus,  they  had  heard  him  charged  with 
bringing  Greeks  into  the  temple  ;  and  they  expected  him  to 
use  the  Greek.  When  they  found  him  speaking  Aramaic, 
they  showed  by  their  greater  attentiveness  that  they  were  not 
only  surprised  but  gratified  ;  not  that  a  Greek  address  would 
have  been  unintelligible,  and  perhaps  not  on  account  of  any 
prejudice  against  the  language,  but  because  the  speaker,  by 
adopting  an  idiom  that  was  peculiarly  their  own,  evinced  his 
respect  for  their  nationality,  his  sympathy  with  their  feelings, 
and,  as  it  were,  made  himself  one  of  their  number. 

Of  our  Lord  himself  it  is  expressly  stated  that  on  three  oc 
casions  he  made  use  of  the  Aramaic  :  when  with  the  words 
rakiOa  Kovjjii  he  raised  the  daughter  of  Jairus  (Mark  v.  41)  ; 
when  with  e^aOd  he  opened  the  ears  of  the  deaf  man  (Mark 


LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE.  407 

vii.  34)  ;  and  when  upon  the  cross,  paraphrasing  the  first 
words  of  Psalm  xxii.,  he  cried  eXou,  eX&K,  \a^a 
(Mark  xv.  34  ;  in  Matt,  xxvii.  46,  7J\,i,  rj\,i,  \rjfjua 
It  is  hardly  supposable  that  among  all  his  utterances  recorded 
in  the  Gospels  these  three  were  the  only  ones  for  which  he 
used  the  native  idiom  of  the  country.  Yet  it  is  not  easy  to 
say  why  out  of  a  larger  series  these  alone  should  be  given  in 
the  original  form.  In  the  last  case  it  seems  probable  that  the 
Aramaic  words  actually  uttered  by  our  Lord  were  given  by 
the  writer,  to  explain  how  it  was  that  some  of  the  bystanders 
conceived  him  to  be  calling  on  Elias.  As  to  the  other  two,  it 
is  noteworthy  that  they  appear  in  only  one  of  the  Evangelists. 
The  miracle  wrought  with  the  word  efrfiaOd  is  found  in  Mark 
alone  :  the  miracle  wrought  with  ra\(,6a  Kovfja  is  found  in  Luke 
also,  but  the  words  ascribed  to  our  Lord  (viii.  54)  are  Greek, 
77  Trot?,  eyetpov — showing  how  unsafe  it  is  in  other  cases  to 
conclude  that  he  spoke  Greek  because  he  is  not  said  to  have 
spoken  Aramaic.  It  is  not  an  unlikely  supposition  that  in 
these  two  instances  the  narrative  of  Mark  reflects  the  impres 
sions  of  an  individual,  whose  mind  was  peculiarly  struck  by 
the  stupendous  effect  instantly  following,  and  seemingly  pro 
duced  by,  the  utterance  of  one  or  two  words,  so  that  the  very 
sound  of  the  words  became  indelibly  fixed  in  his  memory. 
That  the  same  subjective  impression  was  not  made  in  other 
cases  of  the  same  kind,  or  that  being  made  it  did  not  find  its 
way  with  uniformity  into  the  narrative,  are  both  easily  con 
ceivable.  There  is,  however,  yet  another  instance  in  which 
our  Lord  is  expressly  stated  to  have  spoken  Hebrew  (Aram 
aic)  :  in  his  appearance  to  Paul  when  journeying  to  Damascus. 
Of  this  event  there  are  three  narratives  (Acts  ix.,  xxii. ,  xxvi.) ; 
and  here  again  it  is  worth  noticing  that  among  the  parallel 
accounts  only  one  (xxvi.  14)  alludes  to  the  fact  that  the  lan 
guage  used  was  Hebrew.  An  able  writer,  who  holds  that 
Christ  seldom  spoke  Hebrew,  suggests  that  he  used  it  on  this 
occasion  to  keep  his  words  from  being  understood  by  Paul's 
companions.  But  if  these  companions  failed  to  hear  or  to 
understand  the  voice  (Acts  ix.  7  ;  xxii.  9),  it  is  not  safe  in  an 
event  of  this  nature  to  infer  their  ignorance  of  the  language. 
And  it  is  quite  supposable  that  the  use  of  Hebrew  here  be- 


408  LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 

longed  to  the  verisimilitude  of  the  manifestation,  Jesus  ap 
pearing  to  this  new  apostle  not  only  with  the  form  in  which 
he  was  known  to  the  Twelve,  but  with  the  language  in  which 
he  was  accustomed  to  converse  with  them. 

The  influence  of  THE  GREEK  in  Palestine  began  with  the 
conquest  by  Alexander.  The  country  fell  under  the  power 
of  Macedonian  rulers,  the  Ptolemies  of  Egypt,  and  afterwards 
the  Seleucidae  of  Syria,  with  whom  Greek  was  the  language 
of  court  and  government.  It  was  used  for  the  official  cor 
respondence  of  the  state  ;  for  laws  and  proclamations  ;  for 
petitions  addressed  to  the  sovereign,  and  charters,  rights,  or 
patents  granted  by  him.  The  administration  of  justice  was 
conducted  in  it,  at  least  so  far  as  the  higher  tribunals  were 
concerned.  At  the  same  time,  commercial  intercourse  be 
tween  the  countries  under  Macedonian  rule  came  into  the 
hands  of  men  who  either  spoke  Greek  as  their  native  tongue 
or  adopted  it  as  the  means  of  easiest  and  widest  communica 
tion.  Partly  for  purposes  of  trade  and  partly  as  supports  for 
Macedonian  domination,  colonial  cities  wrere  planted  in  these 
regions,  and  settled  by  people  who,  if  not  all  of  Hellenic 
birth,  had  the  Greek  language  and  civilization,  and  bore  the 
name  of  Greeks.  Such  influences  were  common  to  the 
countries  about  the  eastern  Mediterranean  ;  and  their  effect 
in  all  was  to  establish  the  Greek  as  the  general  language  of 
public  life,  of  law,  of  trade,  of  literature,  and  of  communica 
tion  between  men  of  different  lands  and  races.  It  did  not  in 
general  supplant  the  native  idioms,  as  the  Latin  afterwards 
supplanted  those  of  Gaul  and  Spain  :  it  subsisted  along  with 
them,  contracting  but  not  swrallowing  up  the  sphere  of  their 
use.  Its  position  and  influence  may  be  compared  with  those 
possessed,  though  in  a  much  inferior  degree,  by  the  French 
language  in  modern  Europe.  The  sway  of  the  Greek  ex 
tended  to  lands  never  conquered  by  Alexander.  To  a  lan 
guage  so  capable,  so  highly  cultivated,  so  widely  diffused,  so 
rich  in  literature  and  science,  the  Romans  could  not  remain 
indifferent,  especially  when  the  regions  where  it  prevailed 
became  part  of  their  empire.  Long  before  the  Christian  era 
a  knowledge  of  Greek  was  an  indispensable  element  in  the 
training  of  an  educated  Roman.  In  the  reign  of  the  Em- 


LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 


409 


peror  Tiberius,  under  whom  our  Lord  suffered,  we  are  told 
(Val.  Max.  ii.  2,  3)  that  speeches  in  the  Roman  Senate 
were  often  made  in  Greek.  The  emperor  himself,  acting  as 
judge,  frequently  heard  pleadings  and  made  examinations  in 
it.  (Dion.  Cass.  Ivii.  15.)  Of  the  Emperor  Claudius,  a  few 
years  later,  it  is  said  (Sueton.  Claud.  42)  that  he  gave  audi 
ence  to  Greek  ambassadors  speaking  in  their  own  tongue,  and 
made  replies  in  the  same  language. 

The  people  of  Palestine  were  subjected  to  Hellenizing  in 
fluences  of  a  special  character.  Their  Seleucid  rulers,  not 
content  with  the  natural  operation  of  circumstances,  made 
strenuous  efforts  to  impose  upon  them  the  Greek  culture  and 
religion.  The  great  national  reaction  under  the  Maccabees, 
provoked  by  these  efforts,  was  of  no  long  duration.  The  Ro 
mans  became  masters  of  the  country  ;  and  must  have  given 
new  force  to  the  Greek  influences  to  which  they  had  them 
selves  yielded.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  Roman  ad 
ministration  of  state  and  justice  in  Palestine  was  conducted  in 
the  Greek,  not  the  Latin  language.  The  first  Herod  who 
reigned  for  many  years  under  Roman  supremacy  was  mani 
festly  partial  to  the  Greeks.  Caesarea,  which  he  founded,  and 
made,  after  Jerusalem,  the  greatest  city  in  the  land,  was 
chiefly  occupied  by  Greek  inhabitants.  Of  many  other  cities 
in  or  near  the  Holy  Land,  we  learn,  mostly  from  incidental 
notices,  that  the  population  was  wholly  or  partly  Greek. 
Thus  Gaza,  Ascalon,  Joppa,  Ptolemais,  Dora,  as  well  as  Cae- 
sarea,  on  the  western  sea- coast ;  Tiberias  and  Sebaste  in  the 
interior ;  and  on  the  east  and  northeast,  Hippos,  Gadara, 
Scythopolis  (or  Bethshan),  Pella,  Gerasa,  Philadelphia,  and 
perhaps  the  remaining  cities  of  the  Decapolis.  It  is  obvious 
that  the  Jews  must  have  been  powerfully  affected  by  so  many 
Greek  communities  established  near  them  and  connected 
with  them  by  manifold  political  relations,  and  especially  the 
Jews  of  Galilee,  surrounded  as  they  were  and  pressed  upon 
by  such  communities. 

While  many  Greeks  were  becoming  settled  in  Palestine, 
Jews  in  yet  larger  number  were  leaving  it  to  establish  them 
selves  in  all  the  important  places  of  the  Grecian  world.  With 
out  losing  their  nationality  and  religion,  they  gave  up  their 


410  LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 

Aramaic  mother-tongue  for  the  general  language  of  the  people 
round  them.  Had  the  Jews  of  Egypt  retained  the  native 
idiom,  the  first  translation  of  the  Scriptures  would  probably 
have  been  made  in  Aramaic,  and  not  in  Greek.  Even  Philo 
of  Alexandria,  an  older  contemporary  of  our  Lord,  gives  no 
evidence  in  his  voluminous  and  learned  writings  of  an  ac 
quaintance  with  either  Hebrew  or  Aramaic.  But  these  Jews 
of  the  dispersion  frequently  returned  to  their  fatherland  ;  they 
gathered  in  crowds  to  the  great  national  festival  ;  and  in  per 
sonal  communication  with  their  Palestinian  kindred,  did  much 
to  extend  the  use  of  their  adopted  language.  In  many  cases 
they  continued  to  reside  in  Palestine.  Thus  we  hear  (Acts 
vi.  9)  of  one  or  more  synagogues  of  Libertines  (Jewish  freed- 
men  from  Italy),  Cyrenians,  Alexandrians,  Cilicians,  and 
peoples  from  western  Asia  Minor.  That  many  would  con 
tent  themselves  with  their  familiar  Greek,  as  being  sufficient 
for  the  ordinary  purposes  of  communication,  without  taking 
the  trouble  to  learn  Aramaic,  is  a  fact  which  can  hardly  be 
doubted.  It  is  generally  believed  that  the  Hellenists  men 
tioned  in  Acts  ix.  29,  and  (as  converts  to  Christianity)  in  Acts 
vi.  I,  were  persons  of  this  sort — separated  from  those  around 
them  not  by  speaking  Greek  (for  most  others  could  do  so),  but 
by  speaking  only  Greek.  The  satisfaction  which  Paul  gave 
by  his  use  of  Aramaic  (Acts  xxii.  2)  makes  it  easy  to  under 
stand  how  such  persons,  who  being  settled  in  Palestine  dis 
dained  to  acquire  the  native  idiom,  might  be  looked  upon 
with  coldness  or  disfavor  as  a  class  by  themselves,  especially 
if  they  showed,  as  may  often  have  been  the  case,  a  weakened 
attachment  to  other  features  of  the  national  life. 

The  Greek  version  of  the  LXX.  did  much  to  make  the 
Greek  known  and  familiar  to  the  Jews  of  Palestine.  The 
original  Hebrew  was  an  object  of  scholastic  study  ;  a  learned 
acquaintance  with  it  was  highly  valued  in  popular  estimation 
(Jos.  Ant.  xx.  n,  §  2)  ;  and  the  number  of  scribes,  lawyers, 
etc.  who  possessed  such  knowledge  was  probably  not  incon 
siderable  ;  but  to  the  mass  of  the  people  the  Hebrew  Scrip 
tures  were  a  sealed  book.  Nor  was  there,  so  far  as  we  know, 
prior  to  the  Christian  era,  any  Aramaic  version.  To  the  com 
mon  man — the  man  of  common  education — if  he  had  any 


LANG  UA  GE  OF  PALESTINE  411 

V  £\ 

knowledge  of  Greek,  the  most  natural  and  eSfcg^Jyay  to  gaui 

a    knowledge    of  the    Scriptures  was   by  reading  ~tlie   Greek 
translation.      That  such  use  wras  made  of  it  by  great  numbers 
of  the  people  cannot  well  be  doubted.      Of  the   quotations 
from  the  Old  Testament  made  by  the  writers  of  the  New,  the 
greater  part    are  in  the  words  of  the  LXX.      Comparatively 
few  give  any  clear  evidence  that  the  writer  had  in  mind  the 
Hebrew  original.       This   familiarity  with  the  Greek    version 
makes  it  probable   that  it  was  used  not  only  for  private  read 
ing,  but  *in  the   public  services   of  the   synagogue.      In  many 
places    there  may  have  been    no   one   sufficiently  acquainted 
with  the  ancient  Hebrew  to  read  and  translate  it  for  the  con 
gregation  ;  but  in  every  community,  we  may  presume,  there 
were  persons  who  could  both  read  the  Greek  and  add  what 
ever  paraphrase   or    explanation    may  have  been   needed  in 
Aramaic.      It  is  apparent  in  the  case  of  Josephus,  that  even 
men  of  learning  who  had  studied  the  Hebrew  were  familiar 
with  the  version  of  the  LXX. ;  in  his  Antiquities  Josephus  makes 
more  use  of  the  latter  than  of  the  former.     To  the  influence 
of  the  LXX.  must  be  added  that  of  a  considerable  Jewish- 
Greek  literature,  composed  mainly  in   the  last  two  centuries 
before  Christ,  the  so-called  Apocrypha  of  the  Old  Testament. 
It  is  true  that  one  of  these  books,  the  Wisdom  of  Jesus  the 
son  of  Sirach,  is  declared  in  its  preface  to  be  the  translation 
of  a    work  composed  in    Hebrew  (i.e.,  not    improbably,    in 
Aramaic)    by  the  grandfather  of   the    translator.       There  is 
much  reason  for  believing  also  that  the  First  Book  of  Macca 
bees  was  written  in  Hebrew  ;   and  the  same  may  perhaps  be 
true   of  some  other  apocryphal   books.     The  fact,  however, 
that  no  one  of  them  is  extant  in  that  language  seems  to  show 
that  in  general  use  (except   in   countries  east  of  the  Syrian 
desert)  the    Hebrew  (or  Aramaic)   original  was   early   super 
seded  by  the  Greek  version.     A  case  nearly  parallel  is  seen  in 
Josephus's  History  of  the  Jewish  War.     It  was  composed  (ac 
cording  to  the  statement  of  the  preface)  in  the  native  tongue 
for  the  barbarians  of  the  interior,  i.  e.  beyond  the  Syrian  de 
sert,  the  limit  of  the  Roman  power.      But  for  those'  under  the 
Roman  government  he  translated  it  into  Greek  (rot?  Kara  TTJV 
rfj  *E\\d8t,   7X060-0-77    neTa(3a\a)v).       And 


412  LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 

this  translation  has  so  thoroughly  superseded  the  original 
work  that,  but  for  the  statement  of  its  author,  we  should  not 
have  known,  or  perhaps  even  suspected,  its  existence. 

That  Greek  was  generally  understood  by  the  people  of 
Jerusalem  is  evident  from  the  circumstances  of  Paul's  address 
in  Acts  xxii.  The  multitude  who  listened  with  hushed  atten 
tion  while  he  spoke  to  them  in  Aramaic  were  already  atten 
tive  when  expecting  to  hear  him  in  Greek.  It  does  not  follow 
that  all  understood  him  in  the  former  language,  or  that  all 
would  have  understood  him  in  the  latter.  To  gain  attention 
it  would  be  enough  that  a  large  majority  could  understand 
the  language  of  the  speaker ;  those  who  could  not  might 
still  get  some  notion  of  the  speech,  its  drift  and  substance,  by 
occasional  renderings  of  their  fellows. 

The  Greek  New  Testament  is  itself  the  strongest  proof  of 
the  extent  to  which  its  language  had  become  naturalized 
among  the  Jews  of  Palestine.  Most  of  its  writers,  though  not 
belonging  to  the  lowest  class,  to  the  very  po6r,  or  the  quite 
uneducated,  were  men  in  humble  life,  in  whom  one  could 
hardly  expect  to  find  any  learning  or  accomplishment  beyond 
what  was  common  to  the  great  body  of  their  countrymen. 
We  are  not  speaking  of  Saul  or  Luke  or  the  unknown  writer 
of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  ;  but  of  Peter,  Jude,  James, 
John,  and  Matthew,  if  (as  is  most  probable)  we  have  his 
gospel  in  its  original  language.  Yet  we  find  them  not  only 
writing  in  Greek,  but  writing  in  a  way  which  proves  that  they 
were  familiar  with  it  and  at  home  in  it.  They  do  not  write  it 
with  elegance  or  with  strict  grammatical  correctness  ;  but  they 
show  a  facility,  a  confidence,  an  abundance  of  apt  and  forci 
ble  expression',  which  men  seldom  attain  in  a  language  not 
acquired  in  early  life.  Some  have  found  in  the  Hebrew  idioms 
which  color  their  style  an  indication  that  they  thought  in 
Hebrew  (or  Aramaic),  and  had  to  translate  their  thoughts 
when  they  expressed  them  in  Greek.  But  similar  idioms  oc 
cur  in  the  compositions  of  Paul,  who  as  the  native  of  a  Greek 
city  must  have  been  all  his  life  familiar  with  the  Greek  lan 
guage.  When  Greek  began  to  be  spoken  by  Hebrews,  learn 
ing  it  in  adult  years,  they  had  to  go  through  a  process  of 
mental  translation  ;  and  the  natural  result  was  the  formation 


LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE.  4! 3 

of  a  Hellenistic  dialect,  largely  intermixed  with  Semitic  idioms, 
which  they  handed  down  to  their  descendants.  The  latter, 
as  they  did  not  cease  to  speak  an  Aramaic  idiom,  were  little 
likely  to  correct  the  Aramaic  peculiarities  in  the  Greek  re 
ceived  from  their  fathers.  Josephus  speaks  with  emphasis  of 
the  difficulty  which  even  a  well-educated  Jew  found  in  writing 
Greek  with  idiomatic  accuracy.  The  Greek  style  of  a  Jew, 
especially  when  writing  on  religious  subjects,  was  naturally 
affected  by  his  familiarity  with  the  LXX. ,  which  copied  from 
the  original  many  Hebrew  forms  of  expression,  and  kept  them 
alive  in  the  memory  and  use  of  the  people. 

In  view  of  these  proofs,  the  conclusion  seems  unavoidable 
that,  as  a  general  fact,  the  Palestine  Jews  of  the  first  century 
were  acquainted  with  both  languages,  Greek  and  Aramaic. 
It  is  probable,  indeed,  as  already  stated,  that  some  were  not 
acquainted  with  the  Aramaic  ;  and  it  is  by  no  means  im 
probable,  though  the  proof  is  less  distinct,  that  some  were 
not  acquainted  with  the  Greek.  Of  both  these  classes  the! 
absolute  number  may  have  been  considerable.  But  apparently/ 
they  were  the  exceptions,  the  majority  of  the  people  having  a 
knowledge  more  or  less  extended  of  both  languages.  Other 
instances  of  bilingual  communities,  of  populations  able  for  the 
most  part  to  express  themselves  in  two  different  tongues,  are 
by  no  means  wanting.  One  of  the  most  striking  at  the  pres 
ent  day  is  to  be  found  in  a  people  of  Aramaean  origin  with  a 
firmly  held  Aramaic  vernacular,  the  Nestorian  Syrians  or 
Chaldee  Christians.  "In  Persia  most  of  the  Nestorians  are 
able  to  speak  fluently  the  rude  Tatar  (Turkish)  dialect  used 
by  the  Mohammedans  of  this  province,  and  those  of  the 
mountains  are  equally  familiar  with  the  language  of  the 
Koords.  Still  they  have  a  strong  preference  for  their  own 
tongue,  and  make  it  the  constant  and  only  medium  of  inter 
course  with  each  other."  (Stoddard's  Preface  to  Modern 
Syriac  Grammar,  in  Journal  of  Amer.  Oriental  Soc.,  vol.  v.) 

It  is  a  common  opinion  that  by  the  pentecostal  gift  of 
tongues  (Acts  ii.)  the  Apostles  were  miraculously  endowed 
with  a  knowledge  of  many  languages  and  the  power  of  using 
them  at  pleasure.  But  this  gift  would  seem  from  the  tenor 
of  the  accounts  to  have  been  a  kind  of  inspiration  under 


414  LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 

which  the  speaker  gave  utterance  to  a  succession  of  sounds, 
without  himself  willing,  or  perhaps  even  understanding,  the 
sounds  which  he  uttered.  It  does  not  appear  from  the  sub 
sequent  history  that  the  Apostles  in  their  teaching  made  use 
of  any  other  languages  than  Greek  and  Aramaic.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  suppose  that  Paul  spoke  Latin  at  Rome,  or  Mal 
tese  in  Melita  (Acts  xxviii.),  or  Lycaonian  at  Lystra  (Acts 
xiv.).  In  the  transactions  at  Lystra  it  is  pretty  clearly  im 
plied  that  Paul  and  Barnabas  did  not  understand  the  speech 
of  Lycaonia,  and  therefore  failed  to  perceive  and  oppose  the 
idolatrous  intentions  of  the  people  until  they  had  broken  out 
into  open  act. 

In  choosing  between  the  two  languages  which  they  un 
doubtedly  possessed,  the  Apostles  were  of  course  guided  by 
the  circumstances.  Outside  of  the  Holy  Land  they  would 
generally,  if  not  always,  make  use  of  the  Greek.  In  Syria,  in 
deed,  a  considerable  part  of  the  people — the  same  for  which 
the  Peshito  version  was  made  in  the  next  century — would 
probably  have  understood  an  address  in  the  Aramaic  of  Pal 
estine  ;  but  in  Antioch,  the  capital  where  the  disciples  were 
first  called  Christians,  Greek  must  have  been  the  prevalent 
language.  Even  in  Palestine,  Paul's  addresses  to  the  Roman 
governors  Felix  and  Festus  would  naturally  be  made  in 
Greek.  This  is  not  so  clear  of  the  address  to  Agrippa,  who 
had  enjoyed  a  Jewish  education.  In  the  meeting  of  apostles 
and  elders  at  Jerusalem  (Acts  xv.),  occasioned  by  events  in 
Antioch  and  attended  by  delegates  from  that  city,  the  pro 
ceedings  were  probably  in  Greek,  as  also  the  circular  letter 
which  announced  its  result  to  "  the  brethren  which  are  of  the 
Gentiles  in  Antioch  and  Syria  and  Cilicia."  When  Peter  on 
the  day  of  Pentecost  addressed  the  multitude  of  Jews  gath 
ered  from  many  different  countries,  he  would  naturally  use 
the  language  which  was  most  widely  understood.  It  is  true 
that  the  "  Parthians  and  Medes  and  Elamites — and  Arabians," 
if  no  others,  would  have  been  most  accessible  to  an  Aramaic 
address  ;  so  we  judge  from  the  fact  that  Josephus,  writing 
for  readers  in  these  very  lands,  composed  his  history  in  the 
native  tongue.  Still,  when  we  consider  the  "  dwellers  in 
Cappadocia,  in  Pontus  and  Asia,  Phrygia  and  Pamphylia,  in 


LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 


415 


Egypt  and  in  the  parts  of  Libya  about  Cyrene,  and  strangers 
of  Rome,"  it  is  probable  that  more  would  have  understood 
Greek  than  Aramaic;  so  that  if  there  was  only  one  address  in 
one  language  (which  perhaps  the  terms  of  the  narrative  do 
not  require  us  to  suppose),  it  was  probably  made  in  Greek. 

The  difficulty  of  determining  the  language  used  for  each 
particular  discourse  is  even  greater  in  the  Gospels  than  in  the 
Acts.  It  seems  reasonable  to  suppose  that  conversations  be 
tween  kindred  and  friends,  and  the  familiar  utterances  of 
Christ  to  his  disciples,  were  in  Aramaic  ;  the  native  idiom  of 
the  country,. if  not  wholly  given  up,  would  naturally  be  em 
ployed  for  occasions  like  these.  Yet  as  long  as  speakers  and 
hearers  had  another  language  at  command,  there  always  re 
mains,  in  the  absence  of  express  statements,  a  possibility  that 
this,  and  not  Aramaic,  may  have  been  used  for  any  given 
conversation.  And  if,  on  the  other  hand,  it  seems  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  our  Lord  in  his  more  public  discourses  spoke 
Greek,  there  is  a  similar  difficulty  about  being  sure  in  particular 
cases  that  he  did  not  use  the  other  language  which  was  familiar 
to  him  and  to  the  mass  of  his  hearers.  A  recent  writer  as 
sumes  that  every  discourse  which,  as  reported  to  us,  contains 
quotations  from  the  Old  Testament  in  the  words  of  the  LXX., 
must  have  been  pronounced  in  Greek  ;  and  this  criterion, 
were  it  trustworthy,  would  decide  many  cases.  But  if  an 
Aramaic  speech  containing  Scripture  quotations  were  to  be 
reported  in  Greek  by  a  writer  familiar  with  the  LXX.,  who 
seldom  (if  ever)  read  the  Scriptures  in  any  other  form,  is  it 
not  probable  that  he  would  give  the  quotations  for  the  most 
part  according  to  the  LXX.?  Sometimes,  it  is  likely,  he 
would  depart  from  it,  because  he  did  not  correctly  remember 
its  phraseology  ;  and  sometimes  because  he  remembered  that 
the  Aramaic  speaker  gave  the  passage  a  sense  varying  from 
that  given  by  the  LXX.  As  the  writers  of  the  Gospels  were 
probably  in  this  condition — of  persons  familiar  with  the  LXX. 
who  seldom  (if  ever)  read  the  Scriptures  in  any  other  form — 
it  is  unsafe  from  the  way  in  which  they  give  the  Scripture 
quotations  to  infer  anything  as  to  the  language  used  by  the 
speakers  who  quoted  them.  There  are  instances,  however, 
in  which  the  circumstances  of  the  case  afford  some  indications 


4i 6  LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 

on  this  point.  Thus  in  communicating  with  the  people  of 
Gadara,  which  Josephus  calls  a  Greek  city,  our  Lord  would 
use  the  Greek  language.  Among  the  crowds  who  followed 
him  before  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  and  who  seem  to  have 
stood  about  the  mountain  while  he  was  speaking,  were  some 
from  Decapolis  (Matt.  iv.  25).  As  already  stated,  the  ten 
cities  of  that  region  were  (most,  if  not  all,  of  them)  Greek. 
As  our  Lord  had  thus  in  the  surrounding  multitude  of  his 
auditors  some  who  probably  were  unacquainted  with  Ara 
maic,  there  is  plausible  ground  for  believing  that  on  this  im 
portant  occasion  he  made  use  of  the  Greek  language.  In  the 
closing  scenes  of  his  life,  when  he  was  brought  before  the 
Roman  governor  for  judgment  and  execution,  it  is  nearly  cer 
tain  that  Greek  was  used  by  Pilate  himself  and  by  the  various 
speakers  about  his  tribunal. 

It  is  stated  in  the  Mishnah  (Sotah,  c.  9,  n.  14)  that,  when 
the  war  of  Titus  broke  out,  an  order  was  issued  in  which 
fathers  were  forbidden  to  have  their  sons  instructed  in  Greek. 
Whether  this  is  true  or  not,  it  would  be  only  natural  that  the 
excited  patriotism  of  such  a  time  should  cause  the  Jews  to 
set  a  higher  value  on  their  national  tongue.  Perhaps  those 
who  spoke  Greek  and  Aramaic  were  now  inclined  as  far  as 
possible  to  discard  the  use  of  Greek  ;  the  Targums,  which 
seem  to  have  made  their  first  appearance  or  to  have  assumed 
a  permanent  shape  about  this  time,  would  be  a  help  in 
doing  so.  At  all  events,  there  is  reason  for  believing  that 
after  this  period  there  was  a  considerable  population  in  Pales 
tine  who  did  not  understand  Greek.  The  general  opinion  of 
the  Fathers  (from  Clement  of  Alexandria  down),  that  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  was  composed  in  Aramaic,  had 
probably  no  other  foundation  than  the  belief  that  it  would 
otherwise  have  been  unintelligible  to  the  Jews  of  Palestine 
for  whom  it  was  designed.  This  belief  is  of  little  weight  as 
regards  the  original  language  of  the  epistle  ;  but  as  regards 
the  prevailing  language  of  Palestine  in  later  times  it  may  not 
be  without  value.  Eusebius  of  Caesarea,  a  native  and  life 
long  resident  of  Palestine,  declares  (Dem.  Evang.  lib.  iii.) 
that  the  Apostles  before  the  death  of  their  Master  understood 
no  language  but  that  of  the  Syrians  ;  this  he  would  hardly 


LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 


417 


have  clone  if  Greek  had  been  generally  spoken  by  the  Gal 
ileans  of  his  own  day. 

The  discussion  as  to  the  language  of  Palestine  in  our 
Saviour's  time  has  been  quite  generally  connected  with  the 
question  whether  Matthew  wrote  his  Gospel  in  Hebrew  or 
in  Greek.  Most  defenders  of  the  Hebrew  original  (as  Du 
Pin,  Mill,  Michaelis,  Marsh,  Weber,  Kuinocl,  etc.)  have 
maintained  that  this  was  the  only  language  then  understood 
by  the  body  of  the  people.  And  many  champions  of  the 
Greek  original  (as  Cappell,  Basnage,  Masch,  Lardncr, 
Walaeus,  etc.)  have  made  a  like  claim  for  the  Greek.  For 
a  full  list  of  the  older  writers,  see  Kuinocl  in  Fabricius,  Bihl. 
Grceca.  ed.  Harles.  iv.  760.  We  add  the  names  of  some 
writers  who  have  treated  the  subject  more  at  large.  Isaac 
Vossius  (Dc  Oraculis  Sibyllinis,  Oxon.  1680),  though  a 
staunch  believer  in  the  Hcbre\v  original,  held  that  Greek  was 
almost  universal  in  the  towns  of  Palestine,  and  that  the  Sy- 
riac  still  spoken  in  the  country  and  in  villages  had  become  so 
corrupted  as  to  be  a  kind  of  mongrel  Greek.  He  found  an 
opponent  in  Simon  (Hist.  Crit.  du  Tc.rtc  du  N.  T.,  Rotterd. 
1689),  who  allowed  that  Greek  was  the  common  language 
(languc  vulgairc")  of  the  country,  but  contended  that  the  Jews, 
beside  the  Greek,  had  preserved  the  Chaklee  which  they 
brought  with  them  from  Babylon,  and  which  the}*  called  the 
national  language.  Dioclati  of  Naples  (Dc  Christo  Greece 
loqucntc,  1/67  ;  reprinted,  London,  1843)  went  farther  than 
Vossius,  asserting  that  Greek  in  the  days  of  our  Lord  had 
entirely  supplanted  the  old  Palestinian  dialect.  Replies  to 
this  work  were  put  forth  by  Ernesti  (///  Ncucstc  Tliccl.  Bibl, , 
1771)  and  De  Rossi  (Delia  Lingua  propria  di  Christo,  Parma, 
1772).  De  Rossi's  work  was  adopted  by  Pfannkuche  as  the 
basis  of  his  essay  on  the  Aramaean  language  in  Palestine  (in 
Eichhorn's  Allgem.  Bibl.,  1797),  translated  by  E.  Robinson 
(in  Am.  Bibl.  Rcpos.,  1831)  with  an  introduction  on  the 
literature  of  the  subject.  Another  translation  (by  T.  G. 
Repp)  is  given  in  Clark's  Biblical  Cabinet,  vol.  ii.  Against 
Pfannkuche,  who  is  one-sided  in  his  advocacy  of  the  Aramaic, 
Hug  (Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  4th  ed.,  1847;  3<3  ed-  translated 
by  Fosdick,  Andover,  1836)  maintained  the  concurrent  use  of 
27 


41 8  LANGUAGE  OF  PALESTINE. 

Greek.  His  position — which  is  nearly  the  same  with  that  of 
Simon — is  held  substantially  by  most  later  writers,  as  Credner 
(Einl.  in  d.  N.  T.,  Halle,  1836)  and  Bleek  (Einl.  in  d.  N.  T., 
Berlin,  1862).  A  somewhat  more  advanced  position  is  taken 
by -Dr.  Alex.  Roberts  (Discussions  on  the  Gospels ,  2d  ed., 
London,  1863),  who,  while  admitting  that  both  languages 
were  in  general  use,  contends  that  our  Lord  spoke  for  the  most 
part  in  Greek,  and  only  now  and  then  in  Hebrew  (Aramaic). 


INDEX. 


tf,  history  of  English  pronunciation 
of,  244,  246-248. 

ablative  case,  Greek  genitive  as, 
44-55  ;  Latin  ablative  in  rf,  47. 

accent,  Greek,  nature  and  theory 
of,  110-127;  the  various  accents 
and  their  signs,  iio-iii  ;  differ 
ence  of  pitch  as  an  element  in 
Greek  accent,  111-114,  127; 
whether  accompanied  with  stress 
of  voice,  113-117;  question  of 
middle  tone  in,  117-119,  127; 
laws  of  position  of,  121-122; 
.theory  of  cadence  explaining  them, 
120-124. 

accent,  Latin,  laws    of,  and  theory 


usage,  96-97  ;     ratios  of   arsis  to 
thesis,  98. 

aspirate  mutes,  Indo-European, 
nature  and  history  of,  168-183; 
Sanskrit  aspirates,  168-172  ; 
Bactrian,  172;  Greek,  172-175; 
Latin,  172-173,  176;  Slavonic  and 
Lithuanian,  176-177;  Celtic,  177; 
Germanic,  177-178;  aspirates  in 
original  Indo-European  language, 
178-179;  their  compound  charac 
ter,  179;  question  whether  surd 
or  sonant,  179-183  ;  Kuhn's  views 
discussed,  180-183. 

Babylonian  captivity,   its  effect  on 


of  cadence  explaining  them,   124-       language  of  Palestine,  404. 
T^/c  Bactrian  aspirate  mutes,  172. 


126. 

acute  accent,  1 10. 
^Eolic  dialect,  accentuation  of,  123- 

124. 
Ahrens   on  e*«o-roy,   64  ;    on   loss   of 

sigma,  78. 
ai,  early  English  pronunciation  of, 

246. 
Anglo-Saxon  genitive  continued  in 

English  possessive,  222-239. 
Anglo-Saxon  pronunciation,  its  re 
lation  to  later  English,   240-262  ; 

relation   of  its  vowel  quantity  to 

English,  263-295. 
Anglo-Saxon  transliteration  of  Greek 

passages,  128-140. 
Aramaic  or  Chaldee,  familiar  lan 
guage  of  Palestine  at  the  time  of 

Christ,  403-408  ;  its  alternation  in 

use  with  Greek,  413-416. 
Arauack  passive  formation,  210. 
Aristides     Quintilianus    on    Greek 

rhythmic, "85-86. 
Aristoxenus  on  Greek  rhythmic,  85, 

86,  90-91,  93-95  ;  rhythmic  feet  as 

defined  by  him,  99-103. 
Armenian  future,  189. 
arsis  and  thesis,    original   meaning 

°f>  95 "9^  ;  exchanged  in   modern 


Bekker's  cligammated  edition  of 
Homer  criticised,  56-80. 

Bentley's  views  of  Greek  metric, 
97,  104. 

Biblical  sevens,  330-334. 

Bunsen's  views  of  the  Ionian  Migra 
tion,  26-27. 

Bursian's  views  of  do.,  27. 

Byron,  character  and  tendency  of 
his  writings,  346-349. 

Byzantine  Greek  pronunciation  of 
the  loth  century,  128-140. 

Csesar,  Julius,  his  labors  on  Greek 
rhythmic  and  metric,  88-89,  Io^- 

Carlyle,  defects  in  his  theory  of 
government,  361-362. 

Celtic,  aspirate  mutes  of,  177,  182  ; 
passive  formation  of,  202. 

Chaucer,  rhymes  of,  255-257  ;  or 
thography  proposed  for,  257-259. 

Chinese,  passive  expression  in,  212. 

chronology  of  the  Hebrews,  385- 
402. 

circumflex  accent,  iio-iii. 

Classen's  views  of  the  Ionian  Migra 
tion,  21-23. 

Crosby's  view  of  the  Greek  genitive, 
45-46. 


42O 


INDEX. 


Curtius,  E.,  his  theory  of  Ionian  Mi 
gration  explained  and  discussed, 
1-36. 

Curtius,  G.,  on  the  j-sound  in 
Greek,  60,  72-75  ;  on  the  Greek 
relative  stem,  76-77 ;  on  Greek 
accent,  119. 

day-dreaming,  indulgence  in,    369- 

373- 
Demosthcncs's  perfection  as  orator, 

350-351- 

digamma,  its  value,  58  ;  its  appear 
ance  in  Homer,  58-80  ;  its  treat 
ment  in  connection  with  the  aug 
ment,  68-69  ;  with  the  reduplica 
tion,  70-72. 

digammated  edition  of  Homer,  Bek- 
ker's,  criticised,  56-80. 

Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus  on 
Greek  accent,  112-114. 

Dondorff's  views  of  the  Ionian  Mi 
gration,  31 . 

Duncker's  views  of  do.,  20-21. 

e,  history  of  English  pronunciation 
of,  244-245  ;  unaccented  final  c, 
257. 

Egyptian  records,  their  bearing  on 
the  Ionian  theory,  11-13,  26-27. 

f/,  early  English  pronunciation  of, 
246. 

Ellis,  A.  ].,  his  account  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  transliteration  of  Greek, 
128-140;  his  view  of  Greek  pro 
nunciation  in  loth  century,  138- 
140  ;  his  Early  English  Pronuncia 
tion  reviewed,  240-262. 

eloquence,  question  of  superiority 
between  ancient  and  modern,  349- 

351- 

English,  Ellis's  work  on  early  pro 
nunciation  of,  reviewed,  240-262  ; 
history  of  pronunciation  of  vowels, 
244-251;  of  consonants,  251-255  ; 
pronunciation  of  Chaucer  and 
Gower,  255-259  ;  his  insufficient 
treatment  of  vowel  quantity,  260- 
262. 

English  orthography,  its  value,  351- 
356. 

English  vowel  quantity  in  I3th  and 
1 9th  centuries  compared,  263- 
295  ;  nature  of  distinction  of  long 
and  short  vowel,  263-265  ;  persis 
tence  of  English  quantities,  265  ; 


evidence  of  the  Ormulum  as  to 
this,  265-295  ;  general  accordance 
between  Ormulum  and  modern 
English,  267;  cases  of  discord 
ance,  268-295  ;  vowel  lengthened 
where  a  consonant  lost,  268-273  ; 
before  a  weak  r,  273-277  ;  before 
/,  277-278  ;  before  ;;//;,  nd,  ng, 
278-281  ;  vowel  shortened  before 
other  consonant  combinations, 
281-284;  lengthened  in  an  open 
syllable,  285-290;  other  isolated 
changes,  290-293  ;  changes  in 
endings  and  suffixes,  293-295. 
Europe,  its  tendency  toward  repub 
licanism,  361-369. 

foot,  meaning  of  the  term  in  metric, 
8 1  ;  composed  of  arsis  and  thesis, 
95-99  ;  rhythmic  feet  according  to 
Aristoxenus,  99-102  ;  compound 
feet,  102-106;  irrational  feet,  106- 
108. 

forty,  predominance  of,  in  the  He 
brew  chronology,  390-402. 

futures,  formation  of,  in  Indo-Euro 
pean  languages,  184-198;  the  fu 
ture  in  Semitic,  184-185  ;  in  Ger 
manic,  186;  in  Celtic,  187-188, 
192  ;  relation  of  future  to  sub 
junctive  or  potential,  188-189; 
Armenian  future,  189  ;  Greek, 
Sanskrit,  and  Lithuanian  future 
in  s,  189-191  ;  Latin  futures,  189, 
191-193;  Slavonic,  192-194  ;  Ro 
manic,  194;  later  Germanic,  195- 
196  ;  question  of  original  Indo- 
European  formations,  196-198. 

£•,  its  suppression  has  lengthened  the 
preceding  vowel  in  English,  269- 
270;  softened  into  the  consonant 
j'-sound,  270-271. 

genitive,  Greek,  as  an  ablative 
case,  44-55  ;  Kiihner's  treatment 
of  the  case,  44-46  ;  criticisms  on 
it,  46-55  ;  relation  of  Greek  case- 
system  to  Indo-European,  47-48  ; 
Greek  genitive  represents  more 
than  one  original  case,  49-55. 

German,  dialectic  possessive  ex 
pressions,  230-231  ;  passive  for 
mation,  200-201. 

Germanic  languages,  want  of  dis 
tinction  between  the  present  and 


INDEX. 


future,    186;     later   auxiliary   fu 
tures.,  196. 

Germany,  Napoleon's  influence  on, 
35S-359  ;  tendency  to  unity  in, 
359-360. 

gk,   pronunciation  of  in  early  Eng 
lish,  254. 
Goldstiicker,    his  .view    of  English 

possessive,  226. 

Gothic   aspirate    mutes,    177  ;    pas 
sive  formations,  208-211. 
government,    its    ideal    office    and 

perfection,  362-363. 
Gowcr,  rhymes  of,  255-257. 
grave  accent,  1 1 1. 
Greek  accent,  nature  and  theory  of, 

110-127 — and  see  accent. 
Greek  aspirates,   their  original  pro 
nunciation,    172-175. 
Greek  future,  189-191. 
Greek  genitive  as  an  ablative,  44- 

56. 

Greek  language,  relation  to  Italican, 
141  ;   Greek  as  used  in  Palestine 
at  the  time  of  Christ,  408-413. 
Greek,  modern,  Ross's  view   of  the 
antiquity  of  its  pronunciation,  161- 
162;  Ellis's  do.,  138-140;  its  loss 
of  ancient  vowel  quantity,  263. 
Greek  passive,  206-209. 
Greek  pronunciation  in    loth   cen 
tury,  128-140. 
Greek  rhythm  and  metre,  81-109 — 

and  see  metre. 

Greeks  and   Italicans,  Ross  on  the 

relation  of  their  languages,   141- 

163  ;  their  true  relations,  163-167. 

Greeks,  their  superiority  in  arts,  350. 

Greek  words  and  letters  : 

au,  its  sound  in  loth  century,  135- 

136. 

f,  origin  of  its  name,  135. 

ZKIICSTOS,  64,  78-80. 

eKure/)or,  eKarepdf,  79-80. 

e'Xcop.  etc.,  65-66. 

eoiKa,  etc.,  72-73. 

fog.    78. 

epvofjiai  and  e'/n'o),  66-68. 

CTOS,    65. 

eu,  its  sound  in  loth  century,  135- 

136. 
17,  its  sound  in  loth  century,  132- 

133- 
fiVcro,  69-70. 

s,  derivation  of,  38-43. 
and  tiyjLit,  73-74. 


421 


aoi/fj,   IO. 
ot,  its  sound  in  loth  century,  134- 


f)Ovg,  38. 

v,  its  sound  in  loth  century,  132  ; 

its  name,  135. 
v\rj,  78. 

Gutschmid's    views    of    the    Ionian 
Migration,  27-31. 

h,  its  pronunciation  in  early  Eng 

lish,  254;    its  suppression  some 

times    lengthens    the     preceding 

vowel,  271,  272. 

Hammer   Purgstall  on  the  number 

seven,  339. 
Hebrew,    a   dead   language    in    the 

time  of  Christ,  404. 
Hebrew  chronology,  from  Moses  to 
Solomon,  account  of,  385-402  ; 
discrepant  statement  of  the  He 
brew  text  and  the  Scptuagint, 
385  ;  discordance  of  both  with  the 
items  in  Judges,  etc.,  386-388  ; 
relation  to  Paul's  statement  in 
Acts,  387  ;  method  of  the  rec 
onciliation  of  the  discrepancies, 
388-389  ;  prominence  of  the  num 
ber  forty  in  the  series,  390-392  ; 
apparent  artificiality,  in  part,  of 
the  chronology,  393-402  ;  rela 
tion  to  number  of  generations, 
397-399  ;  connection  with  Egyp 
tian  history,  400  ;  sources  used, 
401-402. 

his,  question  of  its  use  in  formation 
of  the  English  possessive  case, 
221-239. 

Homer,  Bekker's  digammated  edi 
tion  of,  56-80. 

Homeric  sevens,  325-326. 

Hungarian  passive  formations,  210. 

/,    history   of  its    pronunciation    in 

English,  244-246. 
Ibn  Khojle  on  the   number  seven, 

33^- 
immortality,  whether  demonstrable 

from  the  light  of  nature,  373-379. 
Indian  sevens,  327-329. 
Indo-European  aspirate  mutes,  na 

ture  and  history  of,  168-183  —  and 

see  aspirates. 
Indo-European    futures,    184-198—- 

and  see  futures. 
Indo-European  languages,  their  re 

lation  to  one  another,  145-146. 


422 


INDEX. 


intransitive  verbs,  expressing  pas 
sive,  210-213. 

Ionian,  origin  and  application  of 
the  name,  10-11,  22,  23-24. 

Ionian  Migration,  E.  Curtius's  the 
ory  respecting,  1-19;  discussions 
of  it  by  other  scholars,  20-36. 

lonians,  their  position  in  early 
Greece,  16-18. 

Irish  future,  192. 

is  being,  English  continuous  pas 
sive,  212. 

Italian  passive  reflexive,  203. 

Italicans,  relation  of  their  language 
to  Greek,  141. 

Italicans  and  Greeks,  Ross  on  the 
relation  of  their  languages,  141- 
163  ;  their  true  relations,  163-167. 

Josephus,  his  testimony  as  to  the 
language  of  Palestine,  404-405, 
411. 

k,  its  pronunciation  in  early  Eng 
lish,  253. 

Knight's  digammated  Iliad,  56. 

Koran,  its  sevens,  337. 

Kuhn,  his  views  upon  primitive  as 
pirates,  180-182. 

Kiihner's  treatment  of  the  Greek 
genitive,  44-46. 

/,  vowel  lengthened  where  it  is  lost  in 

English,  269  ;  other  cases  of  pro-  I 

traction  before,  277-278,  281. 
labialized  consonants,  Ellis's  views  ; 

of,  253. 

Latin  ablative  in  </,  47. 
Latin  accent,  laws   and  theory  of,  ! 

124-126. 

Latin  aspirate  mutes,  172-173,  176.  i 
Latin  future,  expressed  by  potential ' 

or    optative,    188-189,    I9I~I93  5  i 

future    in    bo,     191-192;     future! 

perfect,  191. 

Latin  passive,  201-202,  205-206. 
Latin  subjunctive,  uses  of,  215-220.  ! 
Layamon's  Brut,  English  genitive  or  ' 

possessive  in,  233-235. 
Lepsius's  views  on  the  Ionian  Mi-  i 

gration,  13,  26  ;  on  aspirate  mutes,  j 

171. 
liberty,  civil,  Napoleon's  influence  j 

on,  356-361- 
Lithuanian   future,    190;     passive,! 

204. 


Madvig,  his  treatment  of  Latin  sub 
junctive,  219-220  ;  of  genitive 
case,  52. 

Manning's  essay  on  English  posses 
sive  case,  reviewed,  221-239. 

mb,  English  short  vowel  lengthened 
before,  278-281. 

metre,  ancient  Greek,  81-109;  re 
lation  of  rhythmic,  metric,  and  or 
chestic,  81-82  ;  Greek  writers  on 
metric,  82-84  ;  relation  of  metric 
and  music,  83,  89-92  ;  labors  of 
Rossbach  and  Westphal  on  Greek 
metric,  87-109;  arsis  and  thesis 
and  their  ratios,  95-99  ;  metrical 
feet  according  to  Aristoxenus, 
99-102;  compound  and  extended 
feet,  102-106  ;  irrational  feet, 
106-108  ;  protracted  syllables  and 
pauses,  82,  84,  103,  108,  109. 

middle  voice,  endings  of,  207. 

Misteli  on  Greek  accent,  119. 

Napoleon's  influence  on  civil  liberty 

in  Europe,  356-361. 
nd,  short  English  vowel  lengthened 

before,  278-281. 
Nestorians  a  bilingual  community, 

4i3- 
New  Testament,    vernacular  of  its 

writers,  403-418. 

ng,  short  English  vowel  lengthened 
"before,  280-281. 

o,  history  of  English  pronunciation 
of,  244-245. 

Old  Slavonic  passive,  203. 

orchestic,  its  relation  to  rhythm  and 
metre,  81. 

Ormulum,  English  genitive  or  pos 
sessive  in,  235-236  ;  its  orthogra 
phy,  265-266;  its  vowel  quantities 
compared  with  those  of  modern 
English,  268-295. 

orthography,    English,     its    value, 

351-356. 

ou,  early  English  pronunciation  of, 
245-246. 

palseotype,  Ellis's  system  of,  241- 
242. 

Palestine,  language  of,  at  the  time 
of  Christ,  403-418  ;  use  of  Ara 
maic  in,  403-408  ;  of  Greek,  408- 
413 ;  special  Hellenizing  in 
fluences  in  Palestine,  409-410  ; 
influence  of  the  Septuagint,  410  ; 


INDEX. 


423 


the  two  languages  used  together, 
and  each  according  to  circum 
stances,  413-416;  authorities  on 
the  subject,  417-418. 
passive  formations,  199-214  ;  Eng 
lish,  199-200  ;  German,  200-201  ; 
Latin,  201-202,  205-206;  Celtic, 

202  ;   Italian,  203  ;   Old  Slavonic, 

203  ;  Wallachian,  203  ;  Lithuani 
an,  204  ;   Scandinavian,  204-205  ; 
Greek,     206-209  ;     Gothic,    208- 
211  ;    Sanskrit,     208-209;     Hun 
garian,  etc.,  210  ;  Arauack,  210  ; 
Semitic,   211  ;    Tibetan  and  Chi 
nese,  212-213  5   Indian  and  Afri 
can,    212-213  ;    Philippine,   214. 

pentameter,  rhythmic  character  of, 

84. 

Persian  sevens,  329. 
Philippine  passive  formation,  214. 
Philo  Judseus  on  the  number  seven, 

338-339- 

pitch,  difference  of,  main  element 
in  Greek  accent,  110-113. 

position  not  felt  in  English  as  mak 
ing  length,  264. 

possessive  case,  English,  origin  of, 
221-239. 

pracJi  as  a  Greek  root,  37-43. 

Princess,  Tennyson's,  review  of, 
296-324. 

Priscian  on  the  Latin_/,  172-173. 

quantity  of  English  vowels — see 
English  vowel  quantity. 

r,  pronunciation  of  in  early  Eng 
lish,  251-252;  effect  of  weak  r 
on  preceding  vowel,  273-277. 

reflexive  origin  of  passive  forma 
tions,  202-210;  its  rationale,  269- 

210. 

relative,   Greek,   original   form    of, 

74-78. 
republicanism,  tendency  of  Europe 

towards,  361-369. 
rhymes  'of    Chaucer    and    Gower, 

255-257. 
rhythm,     ancient    Greek,     81-109; 

Greek  writers  on    rhythmic,   84- 

87 — and  see  metre. 
Romanic  futures,  194. 
Ross  on  the  relation  of  Italicans  and 

Greeks,    and    of  the    Latin    and 

Greek  languages,  reviewed,  141- 

167. 


Rossbach  and  Westphal,  their  la 
bors  on  Greek  rhythmic  and  met 
ric,  87. 

s  of  the  English  possessive,  its 
origin  from  Anglo-Saxon  genitive, 
2^1-234. 

Salesbury,  W.,  on  English  pronun 
ciation,  242-243,  246-247,  250. 

Sanskrit,  its  use  in  Indo-European 
etymology,  144-145  ;  its  relation 
to  other  Indo-European  lan 
guages,  145-146  ;  its  accents, 
119,  120;  aspirate  mutes,  168- 
172  ;  future,  190;  passive,  208-209. 

Savelsberg  on  the  Greek  relative, 
74-76. 

Scandinavian  passive,  204-205. 
Schumann's  views  of  Ionian  Migra 
tion,  23-24. 
Semitic    future,    184-185  ;    passive, 

211. 

Septuagint,  influence  of,  on  lan 
guage  of  Palestine,  410-411. 

seven,  its  peculiar  sanctity,  325- 
345  ;  Homeric  sevens,  325-326  ; 
other  Greek,  326-327  ;  Indian, 
327-329  ;  Persian,  329  ;  Biblical, 
330-334;  Shakspearian,  335-337  ; 
Arabic,  337-338  ;  authors  who 
have  written  on  the  seven,  328- 
329  ;  reasons  of  its  prominence, 
339-345  ;  arithmetical,  339-340  ; 
chronological,  340-341  ;  physio 
logical,  341-342;  astronomical, 

342-345. 

Seven  Sleepers,  story  of  the,  328. 

.y //-sound  in  early  English,  255. 

Shakspearian  sevens,  335-337. 

sigma,  its  disappearance  in  Greek, 
78-79. 

Slavonic  futures,  192-194. 

Spanish  passive  reflexive,  203. 

spelling  of  English,  question  of  re 
form  of,  351-356;  difficulty  of 
learning,  352-354  ;  Johnson's  dic 
tionary  as  standard  of,  354-355  ; 
objections  to  a  new  system  con 
sidered,  355-356. 

stress  of  voice  as  element  in  Greek 
accent,  113-117. 

subjunctive,  relation  of  future  to, 
188-189;  uses  of  in  Latin,  215- 
220. 

Suscmihl  on  Greek  rhythmic,  89. 


424 


INDEX, 


Targums,  evidence  of,  as  to  lan 
guage  of  Palestine,  405,  416. 

Tartaric  passives,  210. 

Tennyson's  Princess,  review  of, 
296-324. 

thesis — see  arsis. 

/#,  English  infinitive  sign,  54. 

tone,  high,  low,  middle,  in  Greek 
and  Latin  accent,  110-127;  tone 
in  Chinese,  127. 

?/,  history  of  English  pronunciation 
of,  244,  248-250. 

vegetable  diet,  whether  advantage 
ous,  379-384- 

tUj  its  suppression  lengthens  the 
preceding  vowel,  272-273. 


Wallachian  passive,  203. 

Wallis,  J.,  on  English  pronuncia 
tion,  243,  247-249. 

Weil  on  Greek  metric,  87,  104. 

Welsh  future  expression,  187-188; 
Welsh  glosses  in  Greek  MSS.,  129. 

Westphal's  labors  on  Greek  rhyth 
mic  and  metric,  85-109. 

7C'//,  early  English  pronunciation 
of,  252. 

worth,  'become,'  200. 

wr,  early  English  pronunciation  of, 

Wurffbain  on  the  number  seven, 
33s-339- 

ly-sound,  consonant,  its  origin  in 
English  from  ^,  270  ;  from  other 
letters,  271. 


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